From the Ashes
by scullyseviltwin
Summary: They were friends before she fell in love with him; they need that friendship back. (Complete)
1. I

Title: From the Ashes 

Author: ScullyAsTrinity

Rating: PG, but will change.

Disclaimer: I do own them, FedEx just shipped them to me today.

Thanks: Marlou is kinda like well, the Academy. EVERYONE thanks her. And I am no different. She catches EVERYTHING! Sheesh. So, thank you dearie for taking the time to beta and critique this for me!

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**She felt completely empty, a space, a void waiting to be filled. Needing to be filled. Hollow, alone and so uncomplete. And yet, yearning, wanting to be so very full and sated, wondering what she would do if the feeling was ever to abate. She'd be lost. 

She didn't know why, but something told her that he was simply the only man who would ever work with her; the only man who was supposed to be with her. It was the end, the beginning, she didn't know what it was, but she did know it was something.

It was so simple, ignoring how beautiful she was, how perfect she was, for him. But if he only knew what she went through, just to love him without return.

It had began simple enough. She'd shown up on his doorstep in a moment of passion and had spoken before he'd even had a chance with formalities.

"I want you."

"I don't doubt that." The words were out of his mouth before his rational brain could tether them. They weren't condescending or conceited, he was simply acknowledging that he wasn't immune to her advances. "I don't doubt that you want me." He moved into his apartment and she followed, flinging the door shut behind her.

And then his words sunk in.

Sara stared at him, disbelief etching her features, creating the slight frown that tugged at her lips. His head, which until that moment, was turned to the side, whipped around to face her. "And please, don't doubt that I want you."

"You can't just tell me that."

His voice seemed to trivialize the words he spoke. He sounded condescending and irritated. She didn't care. She'd been pushed past her limit. And she wasn't planning on reigning in anytime soon.

"Well, it's true. But that doesn't mean that I can have you."

"I'm right here Grissom. I've always been right here." She was angry, but so very sad and confused that she couldn't pick an emotion to deal with. "If you say it's because of work, for what-"

His voice was rather loud when he countered her words.

"That's part of it. Stability Sara, I need stability in my life. I've lived so long with it that I don't know what I'd do without it." He hated having to say it all aloud, but it was the only way to make her understand. He couldn't simply float through, hoping that she would understand. It was time to lay it out.

"Grissom I-"

"I tried it once, Sara. I tried it all. Back in Minneapolis. She was, she was everything. And believe me, I didn't work a fraction as much as I work now but that-" Grissom looked at his shoes, then back at her, cleared her throat and continued on with what he was saying.

"She loved me. I loved her. She cheated on me, twice. So I left her." Grissom wasn't sad, or upset, just... just stoic. "She loved me, though. Said that up to the day she moved out."

Sara, for her part, was completely dumbfounded. It was as if an elephant was sitting on her chest; she couldn't breathe, couldn't speak, couldn't move. But she felt the grief for him welling up inside of her. This was exactly why she would be so, so right for him. Every fiber of her being wished to lock up his pain inside of her, hide it away where it would never touch him again.

"I could never give you that, Sara. I have nothing to offer you." And he honestly believed that. For a person as complex and independant as Sara, he really had nothing to offer her. The depths of his emotions, he felt, were miniscule compared to hers. They'd never stand up against her love, her trust, her hope. And she did have hope, so much, just for him. It was heart wrenching and depressing and angering all at once.

And he didn't know why.

"You know, you're alot of things Grissom, but I never figured you for a coward. And I can't believe you'd think that of me. That I'd do that to you. I can't believe you." Excuses, excuses. She was sick of them, physically sick of them.

"You know nothing about me."

"But I want to know everything about you." She almost smiled but reigned it in; how cliche. "You don't get it, you really don't. I can't stop, I will never stop wanting you. I've never, jesus Grissom, this isn't a crush. You just, you reduce it to..." If she could have torn at her hair, she would have, but her fists were cleched too tight.

Energy surged through her, out of nowhere, and she began to pace. "You don't seem to understand this love thing." She poked at her skull when she said it. "It doesn't just disappear, it doesn't just go away and Griss, just so you know, I didn't just pick you out of a crowd and say 'Hmm, he looks good!' If you really had any idea what I've tried to do to make it, damn it, to make it stop..."

Her head fell and her hands relaxed and she mentally reviewed everything she had just said. "Jesus Christ, listen to me. I don't, no I shouldn't have to explain myself to you."

"You don't. You shouldn't. I'm sorry."

Her eyes blazed when she looked at him then. She moved to the door and looked back. "You're damn right. I don't need this anymore. You know, it was a mistake of me to come here. I just, I don't need this. I was all about getting things off of my chest, and up til now it's been good for me. But this is ridiculous. I don't owe you a damn thing."

He'd opened up to her, a grand gesture, but it just wasn't enough.

So she left.


	2. II

The room was dark and smelled of sweet pea and vanilla. Soft, soft cream licked the purple walls like a lover, casting eerie shadows over bookshelves and tables.

Sara Sidle sat on her couch, the low light from the candles just enough to cast yellow over the pages of her novel. Her music was low, a woman's voice slowly crooning out deep, jazzy, tortured words. She'd memorized the CD and could now listen to it without being perturbed by the lyrics. She'd long since passed the days of committing her feelings along with the lyrics. It had been cathartic and painful at the same time, so she'd given up looking for an outlet and had just left them to fester.

Now, with the emotions still burning a hole in her soul, she set about relaxing, something that she'd hadn't done in an incredibly long time. 'Book, book, read the book,' she told herself, attempting to physically shake the unwanted thoughts from her head.

The healing had begun. Yes, the healing, the new empowerment phase. Yes, feminism and all that wonderful rubbish. She'd all but admitted her feelings, proudly keeping her eyes to his the entire time, showing him that no, she wasn't afraid of speaking them, and that she certainly wasn't afraid of having them. She wasn't a coward anymore, and it had felt like a fresh, icy blast getting the words off of her chest, saying the words to his face.

And he hadn't responded, no surprise there. Sara pursed her lips and rearranged herself on the couch, catching a cool breeze from the open window as she did so. No more thinking about him, just, just read. 'Relax. You've set the mood for yourself. An environment condusive to totally unravelling...'

Her eyes stilled on the page of her book, neither reading nor ignoring the words there. Sara stared, and closed the book, finding no solace in Bradbury this evening. Instead,she leaned back and breathed in the scented air, willing her blood to slow in her veins, asking her thoughts to stop, for just a moment. 'Just one moment, it's all I need.'

Slowly, she slipped into warm oblivion, abscent from thought, swimming in a sea of scent, not caring about much of anything until there was a soft, almost hesitant, knock on the door.

She pulled herself out of the supine position on the couch, smoothing out her jeans and passing a hand over her hair.

She peered through the peephole and was mildly surprised at what she saw there: Gil Grissom holding two cups, a bag dangling off of his arm, looking rather lost and nervous. A rather odd sight without the accessories, but spectacularly out of place balancing his offerings in his hands, feigning nonchalance and failing miserably.

Belatedly, she opened the door and leaned against the frame with her hands crossed over her chest. It was difficult to reign in her brow, so she let it shoot up, a delightful smirk toying with the edges of her lips.

"I uh, before you say anything, and before I try to find an excuse to leave... I've been thinking about before. I mean, how we were before, and I think we could both benefit from having that back, that friendship." Pausing for a moment, Grissom thought, decided that he had said what needed to be said and waited for her to respond.

It was dazzling when she smiled and moved into her apartment. "And what is this, a peace offering?" Gesturing to the two cups and the bag, she allowed him inside and shut the door.

"Of sorts. I know you've been drinking tea lately but, I just remembered, the last time we had coffee..." His lips quirked and his eyes smiled. "You got one of those fancy mocha drinks so I figured..."

Grissom's ear picked up the sound of the CD, and he smelled the scent of the candles and ammended his earlier proposition. "But if you're busy-"

"I'm anything but. Take off your coat." Sara said, moving to switch off the CD player and turn on some lights. "So, coffee and...?"

Griss placed his coat on the rack by the door and turned around, bag in hand. "Movies?" He held them up, a question in his eyes and Sara moved forward and snatched them from him. Opening the bag, she scanned the titles.

"Psycho... and Casablanca. Opposite ends of the spectrum." She smiled up at him and he realized that this was exactly what he needed. "Sit, I'll make popcorn." Her voice was full of enthusiasm, something that had been missing from her voice for a rather long time.

Was it really that easy? Walking to her door with coffee and movies, being invited in, mending their friendship? His heart broke for how open and understanding and hopelessly in love with him she was. But he smiled, quirked his head and asked, "Popcorn and coffee?"

While rummaging through her cupboards and cursing, she turned back to him, over her shoulder. "Oh like you haven't had anything grosser." The man ate bugs, and he was questioning the culinary compatability of coffee and popcorn. That thought made her smile internally, lightheaded from his kind gesture.

"Touche," he replied and settled on the couch, rubbing his hands together briskly, wondering now that he'd worked up the courage to come to her apartment, what would he say? He hadn't planned that far ahead. In fact, he'd had to improvise his speech on the spot, completely forgetting what he'd intended to say. He gave a mental shrug to himself; things were going as smoothly as could be hoped for so he allowed himself to relax a little.

Friend. Friendship. Words he wanted back into the regular rotation of his vocabulary.

Sara took the packet of popcorn out of the wrapper noisily. "Butter or no butter?"

Grissom smiled at the question, for what reason, he was unsure. "Butter, please."

"Oh thank god!" Sara responded. "I don't think I could deal without butter on my popcorn." She turned, smiled, and went back to localing the butter, which was hiding somewhere towards the back of her refrigerator. His smiled turned into a grin then at the prospect of health-freak Sara Sidle hoarding the butter. He ducked his head to hide his grin.

A few minutes later, she returned to the living room with a large bowl of popcorn and seated herself two feet away from him on the couch. She was stiff, but just a bit. He looked at her. She looked at him, and nearly blushed, until she realized that she really didn't have a reason to blush.

So what? Gil Grissom was in her apartment. It didn't mean the same now as it would have then, and she wasn't sure why, but she was happy about that. She felt more at ease. If this had been two years or even a month ago, she would have felt naked under his gaze in her loose tank top. But now she didn't, she felt comfortable, like she was somehow on new footing.

No, not somehow. She was on new footing for sure; very, very, firm ground.

Though they hadn't addressed it directly, they had both mentally agreed to forget the encounter in his apartment, to move past it without hindrance.

"Which movie first?" He asked, holding them out to her. She regarded them for a moment and then grabbed Casablanca. He raised a brow at her, a silent question.

Sara placed the DVD carefully into the tray, turned on the television and looked over at him, seeming all of a sudden, years younger.

"I just have a feeling that after all that angst, I'll need a good old fashioned slasher flick." And with that she quite literally flopped herself down on the couch, a few inches closer to him than she had been before. She peered at him for a moment before asking in a low voice, "Ready to start?"

The clicker was pointed towards the television, and she balanced her coffee in the other hand, looking towards him expectantly.

He turned slowly to her and smiled, handed her her coffee and toasted it with his own. "Let's begin."


	3. III

Thanks to Sara for the beta.

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"Where are we going?"

Sara didn't reply, choosing to keep her eyes trained on the road in front of her. There was a delicious little smirk on her lips and he had to wonder why. "Where are we going?" He asked again, turning to face her directly. Gil Grissom didn't like surprises. He just didn't.

She sighed and glanced at him quickly. "Turn on the radio or something. You're pissing me off." Though the tone of her voice was authoritative, the smirk still sat on her lips, confirming Grissom's suspicions that she wasn't really mad at him.

He realized then that he should have called her on her saying that he was pissing her off. But technically they weren't coworkers at the moment. They were psuedo-friends; old friends rebuilding something that they had lost long ago.

Grissom stared at her for a moment, committing to memory how she looked in that moment. In that moment, that one brief scene in time, he wished he had tried to mend their friendship earlier. Maybe, if he'd taken this step years ago, he would have been allowed to lean over and kiss her now. But he sighed, happy that he was given the chance to go back and fill in the cracks they'd left in their relationship.

The foundation for future endeavors would be much more secure because they were taking the time to get to know each other again.

Sara threw the SUV into park, effectively snapping him from his thoughts. Grissom took a moment to situate himself before he glanced up to find where they were... and he nearly laughed. Instead, he folllowed her out of the car walked around to meet her at the front of the vehicle.

"This is possibly the most juvenile thing I've been forced to do in the past ten years." Grissom grumbled next to her, one hand in his pocket, the other finding its way to her lower back. She flinched briefly and then settled in, glad for the gesture.

It was she who reached out and held the door open for him. "I'm not forcing you to do anything." She muttered back, shoving him through the door, into the foyer.

"Well, if I wanted to leave, it's a three hour walk back to town. And you have the keys."

She walked in front of him and pulled open the second door, not bothering to look back at him when she quipped, "You could wrestle me for them." He smirked and walked through the door, his eyes being assaulted with harsh lights, his ears thrumming with some top 40 hit that was blaring over the speakers.

"Yes, you see, but then you're have to explain why, when I pull into work with you bound and gagged in the backseat, you got yourself in that position."

A snort was his reward. "You assume you'd win. I'd have your ass in a sling for assault."

He fumbled with his wallet for a moment, looking over at his smiling face. "Oh, you would not. Don't be so dramatic."

Sara glared at him and stepped closer. "That's it, you and me, Vegas Boxing, next Tuesday, no pads." She joked grabbing his wallet from his hands, shoving it deeply into her back pocket. "You're goin' down."

Grissom actually laughed at that. "You're probably right. You tend to get a bit feisty when you have your eyes on the prize." He winked at her.

"Feisty? I'll ignore that for now, and I'm treating, this was my 'juvenile' idea anyway." He was rewarded with a saccharine grin before she took off to the counter and laid down her ID for a lane.

He walked up behind her, giving the man at the counter his shoe size. "Now, why is it atomic, as opposed to generic bowling?"

Sara shot him a withering look and pursed her lips. "The lights, the music, anything registering?"

"And what, pray tell, is so wonderful about lights and music?"

She grabbed her shoes and took his, shoving them into his chest. "They're blacklights. And it's, it's just fun. Stop complaining and just try it for 'chissakes." She whined, steering him down to their lane-Lane 32, the second to last, way down at the end.

Grissom's mind began to wander for a moment, as he looked down at the blue and white seats. It was the same, in every bowling alley. Pleasing, alternating colors. Blue, white, blue, white. He pondered for a moment why that was and realized he had, for once, let his mind drift to completely inconsequential subject matter. He felt lighter, freer, able to indulge in this adolescent moment with her without attempting to rationalize it.

When he snapped to, she was finished tying her bowling shoes, looking at him quizzically. She smiled at him, not bothering to question what he was thinking about. "Tell me you're doing calculations in your head." She said, tilting her chin up to him.

Pursing his lips, he nodded tightly. "Oh, you know me..." He said sarcastically, sitting down to take off his shoes.

She laughed at him and moved around him to retrieve a bright pink ball off of the rack. "God, that is so hot," Sara said in jest, testing the weight of the ball in her hand before settling on it.

Rolling his eyes, he smirked and finished tying his shoe. Sara brought herself around to the computerized screen in front of them after placing her ball on the rack. "How shall I enter your name?" She brought a finger to her lips. She felt wonderful, just sitting there with him, relaxing, acting like she didn't still love him. "Doctor Grissom? Or perhaps bugman..."

He gently removed her hand from the electronic keyboard and typed in 'Gil' and shoved her hand away when she went to enter in her own name. "Sara," he typed in slowly and looked over at her.

"Do you have any idea how long it took me to get used to writing that name without the H at the end?" He asked, question meant to be rhetorical.

"How long?"

"That was meant to be rhetorical." Grissom said flatly. She smiled at him and pushed gently on his shoulder.

"I know. And you're up. Show me what you're made of."

He got up, tossed his ball down the lane, following it up with another, picking up a spare. He walked back and plunked himself into the seat.

"This music is horrendous." He said distastefully, screwing up his face as if he'd just swallowed a spoonful of vingear.

Sara regarded him for a moment before throwing her head back and laughing. "It is, I'll agree."

Sara brushed up beside him, sitting beside him at the console. "You're receptive tonight. What the hell changed?" She's said it good-naturedly, but he, regardless, took it seriously.

"Call it a belated mid-life crisis."

"So instead of buying a Ferrari..." She got up and walked to the line at the edge of the lane. Sara trailed off and sent her ball sailing down the alley for a strike. She hopped a bit and thrust her hands up in the air and he was stricken with sorrow and longing. He guiltily suppressed it as she sauntered back to him. "You... what? Change?"

Grissom stared off into space for a moment before responding to her inquiry. "I, well, let's just say, in the interest of science, I openly throw myself in the way of change." He glanced at her. "To see what comes of it."

She stood, though it was his turn. He regarded her with a creased brow. "You look like a man who needs cheese fries." Sara moved around him and paused before taking the step up onto the carpet. "And that's uh... that's, well, impressive of you Griss."

And then she walked off to the bar, letting him watch her move away.


	4. IV

"Are you going to get me sick? Because if you are I really should leave."

Grissom stood in Sara's kitchen, hand to his mouth in jest as she sneezed once more. Her dour mood shined in the glare she shot him and he turned around and chuckled to himself. Sara, bundled in oversized pajama pants with large, garish polka dots and a snug Harvard tee-shirt, threw herself onto her couch and grunted.

"Is that pancake mix?" Sara asked from her position on the couch, looking out towards the kitchen upside down, her hair dragging on the floor. Grissom looked back at her, wisk in one hand, measuring cup in the other.

"Never had breakfast for dinner?" He asked dryly, clearly joking. Since she worked the night shift, she often found herself eating breakfast food at seven in the evening.

Snorting at him, she shook her head, upside down. "No, I mean you make pancakes from mix?"

He nodded and put the wisk down to balance his hands on the counter, leaning forward. "Yes." He nodded once more, judiciously and regarded her coolly, with a slight air of arrogance. "I don't like it if it's not a specific mix, with a specific syrup."

Sara laughed at him, deep and throaty, due to her cold. "Aunt Jemima?"

Grissom's face broke into a wide grin. "Doused in syrup." He confirmed, and watched as Sara rolled over, onto her stomach. "I mean, it has to be floating." With that, his eyes twinkled and he looked, for a moment, to be about ten years old.

The smile that graced her lips was hopeless and goofy and she felt her sulky mood lift completely from her being. It was amazing how one smile could just morph her entire outlook on the day. With one last glance at her twisted figure on the couch, he turned around and began to prepare breakfast for dinner.

Sara watched on from her perch on the couch, not having the energy to even bother to offer to help. It wasn't until he pulled a package from the bag that looked suspiciously like bacon, that she spoke. "Is that bacon?" Clearly appaled, she sat up and padded into the kitchen to inspect the package.

Her heart cracked a little when she saw what it was. "Facon? You bought Facon?" She was touched, undeniably and didn't bother to hide the emotion that seeped into her voice.

"Spirit of culinary experimentation."

"Opening your mind to extreme possibilities, Griss?" She considered placing a hand on his forearm, but thought better of it. She wasn't sure she would be able to remove it once it was there. He didn' t bother responding, instead rummaging about in her drawers for a ladel.

That's how she left him, as she went into the bathroom to attempt to alleviate some of her sinus congestion.

Grissom smelled her before he saw her, sniffing the air, detecting a hint of menthol and screwing up his face at the familiar but pungent scent.

"Ugh," She said, breezing back into the room, wife beater in place of her tee-shirt. "Vicks VapoRub is a gift of the gods." She intoned dramatically before dragging herself into her kitchen, perching on a seat.

"It smells so foul."

Sara laughed and got up from her seat, getting milk and orange juice and milk out from the refrigerator. She then produced two glasses. "You just insinuated that I smell foul."

"You do!" He was ladeling batter onto the pan and it hissed when it hit the heated surface. He turned to her. "You want me to lie?"

"Didn't your mother ever say, 'If you have nothing nice to say, say nothing at all.'"

"No," He responded. "But she may have... signed it once or twice." He placed the ladel back in the bowl and turned to face her for a moment.

"Your mom was deaf?" She asked, sounding more interested than shocked. He knew he'd just opened the floodgates to her barrage of questions, but he spoke before she could begin with them.

Grissom nodded and wiped his hands on a dishtowel, though there was nothing on them. "Yes. Shortly after my birth, ostosclerosis." Sara sat rapt, almost urging him on. "I had it too."

"That's what that was!" She exclaimed, after thinking for a moment. "The surgery."

"Yeah." He said non-commitally.

Sara sat back in her seat, pouring them both a glass of juice. "Okay."

"Okay?"

She placed the carton down on the table and looked slowly up at him. "Uh, yeah. Okay. Was that not how I was supposed to react?"

Grissom thought about that for a moment. How had he expected her to react? Did it even matter? So, he shrugged and retrieved the pancakes from the skillet and began piling them onto a plate.

Moments later, they both had their food, swimming in a sea of sugary syrup, Facon and all.

Grissom held a piece of the imitation meat up in front of him. "This tastes so very much like cardboard." He claimed, but chomped down on it anyway.

"Why are you still eating it?" She pointed at him with a piece of her own. He shrugged and they sat there, silently chewing on their food.

Grissom sat in a chair across the coffee table from her, pulling pieces out of a bag. Debating between light blue and orange, he selected the orange piece and placed it in the center of the board. Sara looked up at him and glared. "That's my color." She growled and he stared back for a moment, not particularly caring.

"Is it?"

She smiled and snatched the bag from him, plucking out the brown pie-tray. "Nope, I always choose brown. So underappreciated."

She placed her piece on the board alongside his, the two colors forming a vision of autumn in her mind, and grabbed a deck of cards. Trivial Pursuit, so pointless. She doubted that there was an answer that he didn't know. She knew that she was going down.

Grissom plucked the dice from the bag and set them on the board. "You know, they never change the questions in this game... not that it particularly matters."

"Well then you would think that with our incredibly large intellects we'd make this game moot." Sara took a sip of her beer, the familiar bubbles tickling her tongue, but she was unable to taste them; her nose had closed back up.

"That is true..."

"Oh, shut up and play. That's the furthest thing from modest I've ever suggested and you just took the bait." She wrapped a blanket around her legs even though it was rather warm in the apartment. "Like your head could get any bigger anyway."

Grissom snorted and grabbed his beer. "I choose to completely disregard the fabulous double entendre that creates."

Sara, taken by surprise, paused with her bottle halfway to her lips. "Is, uh, is this part of the 'change' thing? The new you image?" She asked hesitantly.

Quirking his head to the side he said, "Is what part of the 'new me' as you have so named it?" There was a hint of a smile encroaching on his lips.

"The, well, the joking, the looseness. You're not just doing this because you think I want you to do this, are you?"

His head was down, and he, instead of responding, chose to take the dice and roll. Sara watched as he moved his little piece onto a green space, and avoiding giving her an answer, glanced at her and asked,

"Orange. Sports and leisure, ask me a question."


	5. V

"No, I'm watching Bridget Jones." Sara shoved a spoonful of chocolate chip cookie dough into her mouth.

Grissom pulled a piece of toast out of the oven. "I thought you'd be at work... and what in heaven's name, or who, rather, is Bridget Jones."

She licked her spoon clean and laid back in the bed. Yes, it had indeed been a wonderful idea to get a TV in the bedroom. Her pillows enveloped her as she snuggled down just a bit into the bed. "Bridget Jones, Grissom, is a British woman who has, until recently had absolutely no luck in love. She is, what she deems, a 'singleton'."

He grunted non-committally on the other end of the phone. "That is, until she finally succeeds in snagging leading man, Hugh Grant-"

"That the one who slept with the prostitute?"

"One and the same. Anyway..." She shoved another bite into her mouth. "He turns out to be an ass, and she falls in love with adorable Mark Darcy, who happens to be a rich, successful, handsome lawyer." She nodded as if he could see her. "Classic girl meets boy who turns out-"

"You're trying to tell me you're watching a chick flick." He deadpanned, running his fingers over a book in his bookcase. He'd just finished reorganizing his books, and stood back to survey his handiwork. Not too shabby. Order, such wonderful, segmented order. Grissom sighed happily and turned his attention to the phone conversation.

Sara, for her part, was smiling on the other end, and he could hear it in her voice when she spoke. "Yes, it is a chick flick. And it's great." Punctuating her last remark with a mouthful of cookie dough and flopped onto her side underneath her heavy, wine comforter.

The weight of the phone was rather unfamiliar in his hand. It was rare that he would make a call on his home telephone, simply for the reason he generally had no one to call. The bulk of his phone conversations took place during work hours, on the lab-sponsored Nextels. Damn, he hated those arrogant pieces of technology; the way they beeped so loud and irritatingly.

He steered his mind back on track. "I wouldn't have thought you'd find that sort of entertainment interesting."

Sara laughed in his ear, delighting him in a way he chose to ignore. "Griss, every woman likes this kind of entertainment. Some of us just don't like to admit it." She'd had her fill of ice cream and set the carton on her bedside table, laughing at the television when Bridget's ass appeared on screen.

"Why is that? Why do women feel the need to watch these semi-depressing movies? I mean, they sit in front of the television with a, well, generally, a carton of ice cream or a glass of wine and... and..." There was unusually hostile silence on Sara's end of the phone. "And I'm digging myself into a hole here."

She chuckled, throaty and relaxed, and he smiled at it. "That you are." Sara was warm and comfy in her bed, finding it wonderful that she didn't have to go into work... if she didn't want to. And she didn't. The new chapter of her life saw her relaxing more, indulging herself. After all, if she didn't live for herself, how could she be expected to live for others.

"Then I suppose it would be wise for me to reroute the conversation." His voice was judicious, and it made her smile more than she already was.

"That would be wise, yes."

There was silence from both ends of the phone and he considered, for a moment, bringing up work. But he didn't, he'd done so very well up to that point, he didn't want to spoil the gesture. It was grand, for him anyway.

When he made no effort to speak, she took it upon herself to do so. "So, Doctor Grissom, tell me what you're up to. I can't bring myself to believe you'd be doing anything other reviewing that file I sent you home with this morning."

He snorted into the phone. "I've actually been rearranging my living room. It's high time that I get rid of all of this antiquated furniture." Grissom looked around at the sparse furnishings of what he laughingly called a living room. Sadly, nothing lived in it, not even himself. It was, dank, depressing and just far too white. That was why he'd decided to refurnish and repaint the room. Part of his own personally therapy. He was proud of himself... but refused to tell anyone what he was up to.

He'd decided, on his own, that he needed some therapy himself. It seemed to work for Sara, no reason it couldn't work for him. Yes indeed, Gil Grissom needed some personal rearranging to take place.

He wasn't, after all, that proud.

"Really now? Furniture shopping? Actually going out and-"

"From the internet. How wonderful technology is." Spoken like a true scientist.

Huffing into the phone, he could almost imagine her pushing the hair out of her eyes. "But you're arranging it all yourself, I mean, you picked it all out yourself and you're going to do a little interior design."

Licking his lips, he affirmed her assumption. "I am, I am. I have it all planned out."

"Feng Shui?" Her voice was light and airy and strangely hopeful, though she had no cause to be.

And yes, it made him smile. There was little from her lately that he wasn't fully open to admit made him smile. "Hardly. It's going where it would be, well, logical."

Logic. Of course, it factored into every other aspect of his life, why not interior design? She could see it now. Outdated leather, or something equally as horrendous. He'd be proud of what he thought was good taste, but which was actually decades outdated. And she, well she'd smile for a moment and then laugh, because she was far beyond lying to him, even if it was about something as mundane as furniture design. "Well, I can't wait to see what it looks like when you're done."

"You've never been to my-oh wait, yes. Never mind. Well, I can't say that it needs the Sara Sidle seal of approval, but it will be more than welcome."

Her voice was patronizing when she responded. "You really think you've chosen tasteful furniture? This from the man who only knows how to dress in seven shades of dull?"

"I take offense!"

"Yeah well, you should. So, why did you call me again?" There obviously had to be a purpose, he never called anyone unless it was about something. Actually about something.

Grissom sat on his couch, and pondered for a moment. "I uh, I don't know."

And Sara smiled, turning off her television, pulling the blankets up to her chin, settling herself in for the duration of the awkward, impromptu and wholly welcome pseudo-conversation. 


	6. VI

Marlou is a goddess.

* * *

"Tired?"

"A little." She answered him with a yawn, but continued to look on.

Sara sat on a plush ottomon, watching him push a couch into position. Grissom stood back, surveyed his work, approached the couch again, straingtened it and stood back. That being more to his liking, he moved around the piece of furniture and sat on it.

The color didn't suit him, she realized that as soon as she saw the furniture. Burgundy, the hue of rich wine. The type of wine that rolled off your tongue and stayed with you for hours after. That color against the subdued cream of the walls was almost romantic. A color combination that brought a blush to her face just as soon as she caught it.

He wouldn't tell her that he had her in mind when he chose the color. He wouldn't tell her that he had imaginged what her pale, freckled skin would look like lounging against the soft material. He certainly wouldn't divulge that he wondered about the contrast of candlelight on her skin against the feather and down backdrop of the sofa.

But his mind stilled. She was his friend, and the thoughts he was having were far from friendly.

But for some reason, the thought of her there against his sofa, sleepy and sated, plied with wine and talk of what they could be, was far more pornographic than the thought of her splayed naked in his bed.

He didn't want it. He couldn't want it. He shouldn't want it. He wouldn't, absolutely would not want it until she did again, if that was even within the realm of remote possibility.

They were surrounded by rich mahogany and expensive pillows and he suddenly felt foolish for having gone to such extravagance to fix a room that only he would see. Sara glanced at him from her position near the armchair, smiling warmly. "You did good. I have to admit, I didn't think you had it in ya, but you did good."

Again, he surveyed his work, bolstered by her comment. "I like it." His townhouse felt more like a home now, something he could actually come home to, something he could feel comfortable being wrapped in... And the way the couch was holding his body, he almost forgot that he'd dropped three grand on it.

She nodded. "Though your coffee table needs a few accents. It's too bare."

Grissom smiled at her and lithly moved to seat himself on his new couch. "I think Thai is in order. Think that'll go with the wall treatment?"

She laughed and he ambled into his kitchen to produce a menu. He walked back into the room and sat across from her. She'd since abandoned the ottomon and stretched out in the fluffly armchair. It nearly swallowed her. Something twisted in his gut, but he ignored it; he was so good at that.

Sighing, he spoke. "Whatcha want?"

She didn't even bother to think. "Jasmine rice and what's that mushroom and squash? You know, the-"

"Phak thong phat het." He read slowly from the menu, then smiled at her and returned to peruse the selection.

He looked from her to the menu several times. "How much will it offend you if I get the Satayh?"

And something twisted within her. That he had the decency to ask her that to begin with was... well, shocking. But the tone of his voice when he'd said it, actual concern that she would be upset with him. She was so surprised that she wanted to laugh.

Sara shook her head and cracked her knuckles. The sound popped in the nearly silent room. "Not at all. It's not my place to begrudge you meat."

Sara had answered the door when the food arrived and paid for it, much to Grissom's chagrin.

"Hey, you just spent what, like ten grand on this room? Least I can do is pay for the food."

He grimaced and closed the door after she'd handed the man the money. She laid the food out on the table and sat down on the floor, looking on as he retrieved a bottle of white wine from the kitchen.

"You know, your line of logic only works if I'd done all of this for you." His brow was raised as he sat on the couch, leaning over to grab his meal.

She smiled and put a mushroom in her mouth. "Well, for the sake of argument, let's pretend."

They both smiled and began to eat.

A spot of peanut sauce clunge to the side of his lips and she stared, stared, stared at it until it became a blur in her vision. She was suddenly very jealous of the meat rolling across his tongue. Then she realized what she was thinking, was repulsed, and instead became rather jealous of the wine that slid between his lips.

The spoke in smiles and tiny gestures. Sara pushed some jasmine rice onto his plate, which he accepted, thanking her with warm eyes. It was odd how the silence, palpable between them was so inviting. Few words were spoken as they finished their meal.

He looked at her, her flesh the hue of the sky when it was gold, the setting sun teasing the horizon. It was her skin that made him fake a yawn.

She touched his arm, a gesture of... what? But then she walked to the door and shrugged on her coat without a word, struggled with a soft 'goodbye' and was gone.

He left the empty cartons cluttered on the table that evening, whether as a reminder of the evening or because he was too lazy... he chose not to address.


	7. VII

Thanks to Marlou.

* * *

The lab had taken on a decidedly more lighthearted mood. It might have had something to do with spring finally rolling around, bringing with it Easter candy and a sweep of fresh air. Or maybe with the Cadbury Crème Eggs, which floated throughout the lab, tulips gracing secretaries' desks.

Grissom wondered what Sara would look like holding a delicate flower in her hand. Sara wondered if Grissom would ever think to send her any type of flowers for any occasion. They both wondered when they would get together again.

Grissom caught up with her that evening in trace, watching her trade a Cadbury Crème egg with Hodges for his caramel one. He nearly chuckled; the exchange had about the it air of a drug deal, both taking their spoils and tucking it carefully away in their lab coats. Then it was back to business.

Hodges spoke to her about the hair she'd found on a victim's clothes clothing, Sara thanked him and Grissom looked on and wondered when Hodges had grown more personable than he had. She walked jovially into the hall, all the while tracing her fingers over the egg in her pocket. Grissom fell in step behind her silently, following her to the break room. It was only there that he made his presence know.

Clearing his throat loudly, he spoke. "Pardon me miss, but I'm going to have to confiscate that." Sara spun to face him, a look of guilt passing over her features.  
"I uh, I don't know what you're talking about." Her lips formed a thin line as she rocked back on her heels, extracting the hand from her pocket to clasp her other hand behind her back. She looked like a kid who was caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

He maintained his businesslike stance. "What's in the pocket, Sara?" He tilted his head and held his hand out. Sighing so harshly that it displaced the hair in front of her eyes, she pulled out the damned egg and dropped it into his hand. He grinned at the gold foil wrapper and closed his palm around it. "Thank you"

"This is harassment, I swear"

He laughed, looked at his hand, opened it, and began to peel the foil back from the chocolate eggs. Sara looked on in disbelief as he did so, mouth agape. Smiling in that subdued manner he loved so much, Grissom took a large bite out of the confection and chewed slowly. "Now, why the hell was that necessary? Eating my damned chocolate?" She was actually becoming upset with him and he almost grinned at her.

The smile was gone as he popped the last of the candy into his mouth and retrieved a cup of tepid coffee to wash it down. At her dirty look, he retrieved another egg from his own lab coat pocket and tossed it her way. Tossing it to her, she caught it at the last moment, grinning like a fool.

"Don't want you to ruin your dinner." He said by way of an explanation, taking a seat at the conference style table in the center of the room.

"Dinner? It's two o'clock in the morning!" Sara sat herself down, furthest, away from him at the left, outside of the table. She'd eaten her dinner before even arriving at work. Continuing to glare at Grissom for eating her egg, though coveting the one she now held, she waited for an explanation. "Breakfast then, don't want you to ruin your morning meal."

"Huh"

He smiled at her after smacking his lips and finishing his coffee. "I said," He turned his back for a moment and rinsed out his coffee mug. "I don't want you to ruin your breakfast."

She shook her head, as if to get the cobwebs out. Perhaps she was hearing something wrong. "What about breakfast?"

Grissom sighed and turned to her. "I'm trying to tell you, in not so many words because we're at work, that I'm taking you out to breakfast." Glancing at her, nonchalance abound, he quirked his head again.

Sara shrugged her shoulders. "So, we're getting breakfast."

An aggravated sigh accompanied his answer. "No, I'm taking you out for breakfast. As in, I'm asking you to come for breakfast. As in I'm paying"  
Sara was still lost. "Okay." She shook her head again, screwed up her face in confusion and moved to the door. "See you after shift then."

She left the break room, leaving him slightly sullen, upset that she hadn't noticed that he had just asked her out to breakfast... sort of. He didn't see her the rest of the evening. Which was fine, it gave him time to stew over what he'd said earlier and what it had meant. His brain was twisting around, attempting to rationalize his words, to find the logic behind them. But he kept coming back to the original factor: He just wanted there to be the possibility of kissing her after their outing, and that could never happen if they were still 'just friends'. Funny, how he was the one who now wanted to move forward when she seemed content to remain static in friend-om.

They met up at not a diner, but a nice little restaurant nestled in between a Yankee Candle and a small park. It was so quiet inside that they could hear each other breathe, and for some reason that comforted them both. As usual, they discussed work, but just a bit, before switching to other topics.

They spoke of old movies and tropical fish, baseball and blizzards. It was awhile a while before they ordered, both perusing the menu at leisure.

"I'm definitely not getting eggs." Sara mused, scanning the pages before smiling up at him.

He poked his head out from behind his menu. "Excuse me? Are the eggs here not to your liking?" His voice was soft, a hint of humor in it. It passed over her, causing goosebumps to pebble her flesh.

"No, no. It's just... whenever I go out to breakfast I always get eggs. And..." She paused to take a sip of orange juice before continuing. "Whenever someone cooks for me, it's always, always, eggs. An omelet, scrambled. But always eggs."

It was clear that he was confused by her rant, so she elaborated. "Honestly, I might be a vegetarian but haven't people ever heard of pancakes."

In that instant, her tiny smile, her low humming as she looked over the items, she was perfect. Unwound. He wondered what it felt like to be that relaxed, that trusting. Sighing, he relaxed back into the booth. Perhaps the pancakes, or the waffles or-

"Oh! French toast. I'm getting the French toast." Sara gleamed, and placed her palms flat on the table. Well, if she was getting the French toast, then he was getting the pancakes. That made the chances of brushing against her hand when they both reached for the syrup exponentially greater.


	8. VIII

Thanks: To Marlou, for the superior, and to Laura Katherine... by association. Lauren, who dealt with me during my crazy breakdown due to money and school.

And to each and every one of the reviewers. You make me smile, and god knows I've needed to smile lately. Thanks for making my day a little less dismal.

* * *

Many breakfasts accompanied the ushering in of Spring, and the air seemed to lift around him that much more. Sara continued to shun eggs and opt for higher carb dishes. This made Grissom nervous, wondering how much protein she was getting.

His mind wrapped around tofu and he wondered, for a moment, that if he began to eat it, she would take to him more kindly. Not that he wasn't taking to her kindly as it was... it was just...

Gil Grissom didn't know how to chase. He knew he felt the need to chase her, throw himself out there as she had, but he didn't know how.

Yes, if it was any other woman, he would have seduced her. He knew suave, and he knew charming and he knew romantic. He knew good sex, and he knew great sex, and he knew mind-blowing sex. He knew well, yes, Gil Grissom knew how to date a woman, how to woo a woman and how to get a woman into bed.

Sara Sidle... was... not a woman. Well, she was, but she was everything that was cliche about the phrase 'so much more.' He decided not to fuss over the decisions he had made in the past, taking a page from Catherine's rather long and tattered book: Never doubt and never look back.

Never doubt, yeah right.

It was positively gorgeous out when he left CSI headquarters, and even he paused to take in the wonder of the day. The sun just tipped the warm scale, pressing on his skin, almost prompting him to think of her. Damned sun.

As if on cue, Sara sauntered out of the building. She'd since divested herself of her zip up sweater, favoring the feeling of the sun on her bare shoulders. The tank top she wore was the color of a barely ripened tomato, and it looked like it was splotched with bleach. He wondered if that was the style, but supposed not; she tended to wear odd clothing, stuck to tones that were fairly earthy.

Biting the inside of his lip, he reprimanded his brain. Friends, friends, very good friends.

But she smiled when she realized he was looking over at her. And he smiled back, goofily, mentally smacking himself for looking like such a fool. For being such a fool.

"Good mood?" He knew she's spent nearly six hours over a garishly-lighted evidence table, pouring over samples and photographs.

As if for effect, she shrugged the cricks out of her semi-stiff neck as her smile grew. "Nothing a bath won't cure."

That was it: the image of her in a bathtub, doing nothing but relaxing, head against porcelain, perhaps candles scattered around the room. In his head there were always candles, and bubbles and her hum, hum, humming while her eyes slipped closed.

She made her way to her own car as he stood by his, suddenly slipping the key into the lock, holding the driver's side door open. Sara smiled again as she too slipped her key into the door and turned.

"Come with me." He stated it, rather than asked. Sara didn't bother to hide the mid-morning mirth gripping her features.

It was as simple as that; she placed her keys back in her bag and walked over to the passenger side of his SUV. She was sultry, though he knew she hadn't intended to be. "Where are we going?"

"Though I hate them, for you... it's a surprise." It had slipped his mind not to wink at her, and he did, throwing her for a loop. An impressive pseudo-smile graced her lips and he turned the car on and threw it into drive, pulling out of the lot, feeling unusually sure of himself.

They got stuck in morning traffic on the way down the strip, bumper to bumper with a bunch of SUVS. It took Sara only a few moments to realize where they were headed. "No..."

"Yes." He said, flipped her a smile and looked back out at the road.

She sighed and leaned back in the seat. "But... this is your, you know, thing."

He said nothing until he pulled into a rather vast parking lot and threw the car into park. "Yes, it is." And then he winked. Winked! Right at her, in that silly boyish way that he sometimes toyed with. Reluctantly, she tried to keep up with him as he weaved his way through cars, a spring in his unusually clipped stride.

They hovered around the entrance, waiting in line, chatting amicably. Grissom was more than happy to use his park credit on admission for the two of them. As familiar as Sara was with Grissom's coaster obsession, she was surprised to find just how many times he had visited. "Congrats on your hundredth Mr. Grissom," the perky Asian at the counter said to him, handed him two tickets, and asked for the next in line.

A hundred times? He'd ridden these coasters a hundred times? "Do you, well, know the coasters by now? I mean, after all this time, wouldn't your body anticipate the turns, the drops, the..." Sara trailed off to make sure that Grissom knew where she was going with her line of thought.

He paused en route to a rollercoaster and looked at her. "I suppose. But, that's not why I ride them." He looked back out towards the park and began walking again, hands in his pockets. "I ride them because they clear my mind, because I can be... something like alone there."

Confusion etched her features as she trailed beside, and slightly behind him. "Then why am I here? If you want to be alone?"

Face still rather blank as they got in a relatively short line, he turned to her quickly. "I don't want to be alone." He turned back around, facing away from her, as she became even more confused.

It was amazing, they'd ridden seven rollercoasters in two hours. Surprisingly, Sara was having an incredible time; she felt rather exhilarated, ambling around on wobbly legs. But, as they were on their way to the eighth coaster, she began to feel somewhat dizzy and plopped herself onto a weather-worn bench.

He too sat next to her, looking her over for a moment. She was breathing heavily, allowing her head to loll from side to side. Oh yes, she was nauseous, he knew that look well. Touching her lightly on the shoulder, he got up, walked across the way and purchased a bottle of water and a bag of cotton candy. He opened the bag and tossed the candy into the garbage can, walking briskly over to her.

The moment he stepped in front of her to give her the water she vomited. She heaved twice, once on his shoes, and once into the bag he shoved into her hand. Sara groaned, sat back and watched as Grissom sat beside her. He held out the water to her, his lips pressed firmly together, but not upset.

She brought the water to her lips, color still rather high in her cheeks, and swished. Her brow gathered sweat and her hair hung at an odd angle, framing her face in a choppy version of curtains. She spit four or five times, and then groaned.

He sat there, staring at her for a moment, which she thought was meant to spur her to speak. "Give me a minute, I'll be good to go, we still have how many coasters?"

He chuckled in disbelief at that. "Sara, we're through for the day. You're... well... not in the best condition to-"

"No. I'll be good in a minute. I wanna..." She took another gulp of water and sat back. "You wanna do this. I wanna do this. I'll be ready in a minute."

It was there, in that sentence, during the speaking of it that he was hit in the face with a large brick, smacking him into the realization of things. Here she was, completely sick, dizzy, sweating... wanting nothing more than to ride rollercoasters... with him.

He didn't think about it, not really. Grissom just moved in and captured her lips with his, a sweet, brief kiss that made her more dizzy than any rollercoaster ever could.

Yeah, he'd thrown her for a loop.


	9. IX

Thanks Lauren and Sara. And yes, the first sentence is still there. Damn it all. Merci beaucoup, Marlou.

* * *

It appeared that summer, in all of its oppressive glory, had gotten jealous of spring, ushering it quickly out the door and situating itself with bravado over the city of Las Vegas. Sweltering heat was its unwelcome gift, a gift that seemed, as of late, to just keep on giving. 

It was on a particularly scorching morning that Catherine and Sara were placed on a hit and run out on a deserted stretch of the I-15.

They'd adorned their forensics caps, along with long-sleeved pullovers to protect their skin from the sun. The CSIs liberally applied sunscreen, just in case, and set out to process the scene. It was forty-five minutes before the two women rid themselves of the constricting fabric and set about finishing the scene in their tank tops.

The hour drive back to the lab was possibly one of the most uncomfortable in their lives, the air conditioning both soothing and upsetting their singed skin. It didn't help that the seats were leather and their shoulders stuck to the seats just as it stuck to the fabric of their long-sleeved tops when they put them back on.

After dropping their evidence off at the various necessary locations, the two women made their way into the break room for coffee.

Grissom saw the two of them come in and nodded a hello from his desk as they passed by his office. Everything seemed fine, until he heard painful yelping coming from the general vicinity of the break room; it drew him out of his office.

What he encountered nearly made him laugh, had it not been for the bright red hue of Catherine's skin. She was seated at the table, hair held away from her neck, as Warrick delicately smoothed aloe over her burnt skin. She cringed, swore and shot him a look.

Bending her head she swore once more in pain and looked back up to Grissom. "There is really no part of me that doesn't loathe you right now, Gil." Though his stance stayed straight, his eyes withered a little and he looked to Warrick, who simply shrugged and smoothed the aloe over the nape of Catherine's neck.

It was then that he noticed Sara, dunking a tea bag in and out, in and out of a mug of steaming water. Her shoulders were just as bright red as Catherine's was. Slowly, glancing from Cath and Warrick over to the unmoving Sara, he moved to where she was standing, feigning retrieval of a cup of coffee.

On the way past her, he sniffed the air, wondering if she too had put on the balm with Warrick's assistance. There was no scent of the substance on her and for some reason, that made him sad. She saw him walk by, looked up and smiled at him and added sugar to her tea.

He spoke on impulse. "Sara, could you take a seat please?" His eyes were guarded, focused on the cup of coffee he was pouring for himself.

She flitted her eyes to him, to her tea, to the table and then back to him. "Uh, okay." He could tell by the tone of her voice that she was expecting something bad.

Gil took his time preparing his coffee and working up the last bit of courage he still needed to touch her. Walking with his mug over to where she was seated, he placed it alongside hers. He was insane, he was irrational and he didn't care; he was in love.

"Mind if I use some?" Grissom gestured to the bottle of aloe on the table and both Catherine and Warrick shook their heads, so he took it, bringing it in front of the both of them. Sara looked up at him in confusion but he just gestured with his head for her to turn back around.

She did as he wanted and watched as the bottle disappeared from her line of vision. A moment later, warm hands landed on her sore shoulders, smoothing the balm over it. Sara gasped audibly and Warrick and Catherine glanced at them, but other than that, didn't pay them much attention.

His slightly calloused hands spread the cream over her back slowly, the pace more for his benefit than for hers. Sara reigned in a sated sigh when he smoothed over her neck, allowing her head to fall forward, rewarding Grissom with an unobstructed view of her neck.

Warrick and Catherine had left moments before, and both Grissom and Sara silently acknowledged how intimate the moment was.

Sara walked from the break room ten minutes later, burn soothed, heart aflutter; The day went on like normal; criminals caught, evidence processed, true feelings hidden by a friendly veneer.

Seven o'clock rolled around and a sharp set of knocks resounded throughout Sara's quiet apartment. She ambled to the door and let him in.

He, as usual, came bearing gifts and a small smile. This time, his gifts were in the form of movies; more specifically, the Silence of the Lambs trilogy, which they planned to watch straight in a row for six hours. A noble task to undertake, and one, Sara hoped, that could also serve as an excuse to return the kiss that he had bestowed on her a month ago.

It wasn't that they were purposefully avoiding doing it again, they just hadn't had the chance to get together. The lab was long overdue for an overhaul and everyone was pulling overtime like there was no tomorrow. The evidence had been relogged and old evidence that had been signed off on was destroyed, making more room for the incoming evidence. The entire filing system was reorganized and the trace lab was being rearranged to accommodate the new equipment that Cavallo had been so kind to splurge on.

No, they hadn't seen each other, socially, for going on a month; it was killing them both.

In the kitchen, she was puttering around, cursing under her breath, constantly squirming and dropping her shoulder as she retrieved two Coronas and the salsa and chips. Grissom watched all this with bright eyes from his position, perched languidly on her sofa.

Her face screwed up and she concentrated, once again dropping her shoulder and rearranging herself. It took him only a moment to realize what she was doing. With her fair skin, more acclimated to Cambridge and Harvard than to Las Vegas, the burn was probably irritating her more than it would Catherine.

"Sara, I won't be offended, you can take off your bra."

She turned quickly to him and grinned bashfully. "Oh thank god. This is killing me." Sara retreated to the bedroom and came back a moment later, adorned in a larger, bulkier sweatshirt.

He wasn't going to look at her, he wasn't. He knew what she looked like, with or without bra, just from seeing her daily. But, predictably, his eyes were drawn to her form, long and lean and so feminine he wondered, if only for a moment (more, if he admitted to himself) what it would feel like to just sink into her skin.

Allure clung to her and she stalked to him tiredly, a bowl of chips with the salsa resting amidst them resting in one delicate hand, two beers clutched precariously in the other.

Margaritaville came to his mind for no good reason. Wasting away, surely he was, but alas, he had no tattoo to show for anything.

Glancing at her quickly as she spun around, clearing her coffee table, he noticed a mark of black ink peeking out from the hem of her shirt. Even as he processed the fact that she had a tattoo, Grissom became rather intrigued and made a mental note to ask her about it sometime in the future.

She was still a mystery to him, and there were so many reasons why that was slowly becoming unacceptable to him. But he ignored it as she sunk down next to him on the sofa and started the first film.

Since the movies had started, Sara had leaned back on the end of the couch, close enough to Grissom to feel his body heat cascading over her in waves. It was so relaxing, she didn't even notice when his hand dropped onto hers on the couch cushion, absent-mindedly stroking it. Sometime around two o'clock, a sleepy Grissom unwillingly drifted off.

Sara, ever aware of people, decided to watch him for a moment. The little creases in his eyes has smoothed out and the weight of the world, which seemed to always hang around his shoulders had fallen away. He looked at peace, there on her couch, so right, like he belonged there.

And maybe he did.

Catlike, she uncurled herself and brought her face up close to his, once more watching him for a moment; then she whispered his name. Grissom's eyes fluttered open and she gave him a moment to reacquaint himself with his surroundings.

Sara's face, barely four inches from his, was smiling down at him, her body perched so close that if he desired he could pull her straight into his lap.

Instead, he stayed incredibly still as her lips descended on his for the briefest, sweetest of kisses. She pulled back, smiling, eyes wide as she watched the shock register on his face.

"It's time to go home." Sara said, pecked him once quickly, and got up to clean up the mess they'd made.


	10. X

First and foremost, thanks, just, to the amazing person that IS Lauren. Make me cry, I just... thank you.

Sara, thanks for the idea.

Laura Katherine, thanks for making me smile.

* * *

"Oh my god, did this accidentally turn into a date?"

Grissom's head snapped up from his perusal of the bill to gawk at her. The wine bottle in between the two of them distorted the vision of her, and shadows were cast across her face by the distinctly romantic lighting. A date restaurant perhaps, but...

If he could have run from her scrutinizing gaze, he would have. Instead he stayed rooted to the spot, the check in one hand, his Visa card in the other. "Uh, excuse me?"

Sara, wonderfully gorgeous in her black top and red satin skirt, nodded and pursed her lips. She thought for a moment before speaking again. "Well, we've talked, you grabbed my hand... once but that still counts. And you're picking up the check?" She pulled her leg up underneath her and rested her chin in her right hand.

He was speechless; dumbfounded. So he just started for long moments, wondering terribly what to say.

Sara laughed and threw her head back, just, just so and looked at him with unfounded mirth in her eyes. "I'm just teasing." She reassured. "But you are paying!" And with that she shrugged on her light sweater and moved from the booth.

To a casual observer who looked at him in that moment, they would have believed him to be upset, irritated. But he wasn't, he was on fire as he watched her sand up and stretch, her form taunting his into wondering what it would be like, hovering over him.

He met her outside the restaurant, and in her wine induced haze she slid her arm through his and pulled him along, down the dusty street. Skipping once, she scuffed her shoes on the ground. It was nice, just being with her, looking like a couple.

Sara yawned and moved closer to him. "I think I've been inside for too long."

They walked along, arms linked. Grissom wondered whether, in that moment, they were something more than what he thought they were. But he smiled his tiny smile and shrugged a bit, to feel her move against him. "What do you mean by that?"

"Mmm, I just, I need to feel the sun. I need to get a tan, something. I need to breathe in air." He looked down at her just as she glanced up and smirked. "Real air, country air. New England air, something other than this... artificiality."

Grissom licked his lips slowly, wondering just how to respond to that. He could act aloof, or make some rather deep comment or act natural, and say what he wanted to say. "A little more sun would do everyone good."

He was projecting on himself, and she called him on it but not verbally. She grinned up at him as they walked slowly back to the car.

It was a slow and peaceful drive back to his apartment. He'd promised her coffee and intended to make good on it. He led her up the stairs to his home, even taking her hand to trail her behind him. It wasn't a grand gesture, but it was something and it made her smile, so he smiled too.

Once inside, Grissom set about making some random swanky blend of coffee he'd located at the back of one of his cupboards. And there she was, gorgeous on his new sofa, relaxed, so tired and disheveled that he nearly sobbed and went to her.

But he, in his restrained manner, remained in the kitchen, going through the motions of preparing coffee. It wasn't as easy as he'd wanted it to be- ignoring her long, lithe legs poking out from what he assumed was a rather expensive skirt. And the top, so simple but so sexy at the same time he wondered if she even knew that she was dressed in such a way.

He'd offered her a steaming mug and she took it in two hands, cradling it in her lap. "Yes, this is what I need."

"Coffee?"

She laughed and sipped her beverage cautiously, flitting her eyes above the rim of her mug at him. "Ha, no. Steam." His eyes widened at the mention of steam, taking it in on a distinctively sexual level. But she laughed again. "No, no. Steam as in... a sauna... or sweat. I need to lay in the sun somewhere and forget who I am."

He didn't want her to forget who she was. If she forgot who she was, she would forget him and he couldn't bear that. After spending so much time rebuilding, reevaluating, reacquainting himself with the intricacies that were Sara Sidle, he couldn't fathom the though of having to start over.

He couldn't stand to think that he might have to, but he realized that he would, in a heartbeat. But he waited a moment more for her to speak so he didn't have to tell her everything that was praying on his mind. That would be dangerous.

Grissom didn't have to divulge anything because in that moment Sara reclined on his couch and began speaking with closed eyes; a welcome litany to his wanting ears.

Placing her mug down on the table, she elaborated. "The beach would be so great right now. You know the smell of sunscreen? Like, if you smell it in the winter it just makes you... well I mean as in real winter, with snow and fireplaces... but if you smell it... it makes you long. The beach and the sun and, oh god, the water."

His coffee mug was scalding his hand, but he didn't care. She was smoothing through he hair with lethargic fingers and he was lost in wondering what he was missing; what those hands could do to him.

"Swimming would be fantastic." She drew out her last word, her head lolling to the side just a bit. Luckily she'd left her mug on the coffee table, so he hadn't had to rush forward to retrieve it as she fell slowly to sleep. "Nnnn, the ocean..."

"You'd be lovely next to the ocean Sara." His words came slowly and quietly, but she'd heard him and it make her smile there on the precipice of sweet slumber.

And then she was asleep, leaving her to dream of him just as she thought of the Atlantic when she pressed her ear against a seashell.


	11. XI

**I know that, if this story were to take place in present time, Grissom would be turning forty-nine. However, for the sake of my story we're all going to pretend that he's turning fifty. If anyone actually has a beef with that, please, don't read on**

Many thanks to Lauren for the marathon text messaging session this afternoon. Thank you to Marlou for the intensive research and for the beta.

* * *

"You don't look fifty."

Grissom looked at her quizzically, ridding himself of his labcoat, stowing it away in his locker. "Excuse me?"

Sara grabbed her jacket and threw it on. "Fifty, you don't look fifty."

After a few moments of silence, she grabbed his locker door, took his badge off of his labcoat and shoved it in his face. He stared at it while she retrieved her bag from her locker. It just wasn't clicking, so she sighed and pointed to the date on the back, just underneath his personal contact information.

August 17, 1956.

"Huh." His voice was both full of surprise and disdain; she didn't know how he could manage to sound like that. "Tomorrow's my birthday." Shrugging, he placed his ID back into the locker and shut it without a second look.

Sara's brow knit in confusion. "That's it?" He looked at her, wondering if there was something that he was supposed to say in this particular situation. "Do you at least have plans?" She wasn't prying, she just thought that on such a, well, huge occasion someone had planned something.

Without giving it thought, he shook his head, indicating the negative. "Don't celebrate my birthday. Never have. I like it that way."

"Too bad." She said sternly, pulling her hair out from the collar of her jacket. Grissom stared her down in that authoritative way he thought worked so wellit didn't, at least not with her. So, in her flippant manner, she smiled sweetly at him. "And don't ask me what we're doing because I don't know yet. But hey, at least it'll be a surprise for the both of us."

Pursing his lips in mock anger, he simply looked at her. "Right?" She prompted him again, poking him in the bicep on the way out.

This time, he actually thought of something to say, but when he turned to look at her all he was faced with was the door to the locker room swinging back and forth... mocking him in its seemingly perpetual motion.

Grissom went home that morning wondering what he'd done so right in his life... that she would refuse to give up on him. That thought almost kept him awake, almost. But he fell asleep and dreamed of nothing.

He was jarred from his sleep by the shrill ringing of his phone. Muttering a gruff 'hello' in the mouth piece, he opened his eyes and turned over in bed; it wasn't polite, but at that moment, he really didn't care.

"Birthday boy!" She was driving he could tell, and it made him uneasy. 'Two hands on the wheel Sara, two hands, please!' Her voice bubbled, there was a hint of a laugh in it and it made him feel warm even though he was covered in a comforter.

He groaned, but just because he knew he had to or her mind would positively reel. "Aw, don't sound so glum." He smiled, knowing she had bought it. "And don't pretend to be irritated, I know you're not." His smile fell and he grumbled for real this time, turning once more over onto his other side.

"So Catherine called me," she mentioned cheerily."

Eyes closed, he slipped a bit further down into the bed. "And?"

"And..." Her smile was contagious, reached out of the phone and turned his lips up. "And she wanted to know if I had planned something with you for today. If I hadn't, she was gonna."

"So I suppose I should thank you for saving me."

Sara laughed and clicked her teeth with her tongue. "Don't count your chickens... I'm on my way there, by the way." Grissom straightened a bit. "So get ready."

"Now? You're on your way here now?" He swung his legs out of bed and sat up quickly, the blood rushing to his head, making him momentarily dizzy. "But I need to shower and-"

"Trust me, no you don't." Sara made a left turn and paused in her conversation to Grissom to scream at someone out the window who had cut her off. Grissom clenched his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut.

He voiced his concern to her in a quiet voice. "Sara, if you want to talk to me why don't you pull over so you don't kill yourself."

A side of her mouth leapt up at the concern in his voice, a lopsided grin plastered on her face. She cradled the phone to her ear as if it were his hand. "I'm almost done, I promise." She took another left. "Just get dressed, something comfortable. Don't bother with a wallet or... uh, anything. But grab some uh, other clothes. Sweatpants maybe. Something you'd wear around your house..."

Before he could tell her that he really ought to shower, she cut in. "And really, you want to wait to shower, I promise you." Her voice was taunting and made him bite his lip in anticipation. Grissom then heard a click on his end of the line and realized she'd hung up. With a shrug and a sigh he got up and went through the motions of dressing himself comfortably.

It took him a few minutes to decide on what she'd intended when she said comfortable, so he pulled on an old pair of worn jeans and a black IZod shirt. He tossed on an old pair of loafers and ran a comb through his hair, wondering if it was really necessary to trim his beard.

But then a knock resounded at his door and he let her in. She nearly burst through the door, perky and pretty and threw herself into his arms. He stood stock still for a moment, forgetting what to do in such a situation. Then he wrapped his arms lightly around her and smiled when she told him happy birthday.

"Where are we going?" He asked as he grabbed his keys and was tugged out the door. The afternoon was overcast, but her energy and genuine smile seemed to light up the atmosphere, just a little. She hummed a bit as she pulled out of her space and leaned forward to switch on the radio. "It's your call."

"It's your car."

"It's your birthday!" She said giddily and motioned towards the radio with her chin. "Pick something!"

Grissom settled on a classic rock station after a moment and sat back in the seat. He wondered whether the skipping of a shower was noticeable. Grissom had a feeling that Sara would mention if that was a problem so he allowed himself to relax, just a little.

He noticed when Sara turned towards the Strip and became nervous. What good could come of the garish colors and touristy atmosphere of the Strip? He'd always hated it; she knew he hated it, so why were they headed in that direction.

His fears were heightened when she pulled into the monstrous parking garage that accompanied the Bellagio. "Sara... what are we doing here..."

She just glanced at him and smiled and offered a mysterious, "You'll see."

Grissom grumbled and his spirits fell. This was not how he wanted to spend the evening. But, humoring her, he got out of the car and followed her into the lobby of the hotel. Sara walked briskly up to the desk and fiddled with the sunglasses atop her head. "Hello, Ms. Sidle," the bubbly receptionist said and handed her an envelope. Sara thanked the woman and walked back over to Grissom. She paused in front of him, smiled and weaved her way through the crowds to the elevators.

A moment later, Grissom begrudgingly followed. "What's that?" He asked, his voice low, almost angry, but she just continued to smile and stepped on the elevator when it dinged 'hello'.

She stood with her hands clasped in front of her, the envelope between them. Again, she was humming, stealing glances at him standing next to her, wanting badly to laugh at the look of sheer discomfort on her face. The elevator dinged when it reached the top floor and she stepped out, waiting for him to do the same.

She led him to the Penthouse suite. Standing in front of it, bouncing on her heels, she opened the envelope and produced two cards, one a key card, and one a credit card.

His heart leapt to his throat. She hadn't reserved a room for the two of them to share... had she?

She opened the door and with a little "tad-da" flicked on the lights.

There was a giant bed, a plasma television... and more balloons than he could count. Slowly, he glanced over at her. "Sara..."

"Happy... birthday?" She began to mumble quickly. "I just figured, you know, you told me once that you never partied and I figured, birthday, hotel party, it was stupid, sorry, I'll just-"

"No, no no. It's... amazingly... considerate... of you." He smiled hesitantly and stepped into the room. She waited for a moment and did the same but left the door open.

"I, uh, here." She thrust the credit card into his hand and he took it, looking at the object with curiosity. "Don't even ask how much is on it, you don't want to know." Sara smiled a little. Then she stepped back, towards the door. "The guys, downstairs..." She gestured with a finger, "Owed us a 'favor' after that mob hit we cleared for them last year and I cashed in..."

She didn't want to assume that he wanted her to stay so she hung near the door, wanting desperately to reach out and hold onto the door knob just to have something to hold onto.

Grissom nodded, mouth slightly open, and turned back to once more survey the large, posh room. He'd never been in a room quite that... that... THAT before.

"So, I uh, I'll come pick you up tonight, or tomorrow, or... call me whenever you want to leave. Unless..." She worried her lip, more unsure of herself than she'd been in months. "You wanna take a cab, because the card-" His silence and less than enthusiastic manner made her uncomfortable and spurred her to leave.

"You're leaving?" He spun around to regard her and she nodded slowly. "How am I supposed to have a hotel party without at least one... guest?" A small smile began to creep up onto his lips.

"I just thought-"

Grissom laughed and tugged her into the room, shutting the door in the process. "No, there is just no way I'm hitting that wet bar by myself."

Sara stood stock still.

"I'm thinking deliriously expensive room service and B-grade horror..." He grinned boyishly and felt suddenly infused with energy. "But you don't have any clothes... that's okay. We'll just buy you some."

Grissom sat down on the bed and picked up the phone; he went through the process of asking a steward to bring her a pair of pajamas, telling the man that he didn't care what they cost, to just bring them. Then he ordered two large pizzas... and the entire dessert cart.

Never let it be said that Grissom didn't take advantage of a good situation.

"What are you waiting for?" He asked her. "It's my birthday, make with the party!"

Sara laughed and went to the mini bar and began mixing them both drinks.


	12. XII

Merci beaucoup to... Marlou, more commonly known as Mr. Cheesefires. And by commonly, I mean not at all.

* * *

Autumn rolled around quickly, teasing the tail ends of summer with only the slightest hint at falling temperature. Sara found herself longing for New England and apple cider and the sharp bite of a chill wind.

September 17 rolled around and a deluge of long awaited rain poured over the parched earth of Las Vegas. She awoke to the foreign sound of the rain spattering against her window. So, she lay in bed and listened, finding comfort in the sound. She'd only been asleep for a few hours and could have used a few more but for the moment, she was content to stay awake and listen.

She nearly drifted back off to sleep but a gentle rapping at her door snapped her from the gentle lull of slumber.

Looking through the peephole she smiled, looked at her toes, and opened the door. She smiled, looked at her toes, and opened the door. He stood before her, little droplets of water clinging to his curls. "It's raining." Grissom said dejectedly and brushed the precipitation from his hair. "It's raining and your birthday is ruined."

He pushed forward into her apartment and she watched him walk by and then shut the door. "Uh, okay."

He was irritated, she knew it. She knew his heart rate was above average, the extra creases in his forehead the evidence of that. "I had planned an adorable little thing and-"

Sara chuckled. "Adorable? I never thought I'd hear you-"

"Oh leave it be. It was adorable. It would have been but..." Grissom trailed off and looked around the living room. His eyes squinted a bit and he regarded the scene thoughtfully. "Go back into your room and don't come back until I tell you."

"Wha- why?"

"Just please, humor me."

Sara glared at him, but spun on her heel and retreated to the bedroom quickly. Grissom then went back out through the rain to his car and grabbed a large duffel bag out of the backseat.

It took him a few moments, several curses and one trip to the refrigerator to complete his vision. Standing back for a moment to survey his handiwork, he was satisfied with what he saw and called her out.

Sara walked into her living room, having thrown on a sweater and slippers, and gasped, but just a little.

A large, blue sheet was laid out on the floor. On it were fruit and vegetables and some sort of Italian concoction that she was unsure of.

"So?" He prompted, hands in his pockets, water droplets drying on his shoulders.

Sara smiled adoringly at him and walked over, sitting Indian style on the makeshift picnic blanket. "This is cute, this is good."

Grissom smiled and moved to sit next to her on the floor. They smiled at each other for a moment before Sara's face fell into an expression of thought. "Something's missing..."

In an inspired moment she hopped up quickly and went to boot up her computer. She sat back, legs bouncing, until she'd located what she was looking for on the internet. Sara enlarged it and went to sit back down on the blanket. A picture of a forest. Grissom laughed and wanted so badly to reach over and take her into his arms.

"You know, ambiance," Sara said, winked and began digging into the food.

They ate slowly, leaving themselves time to digest and actually enjoy their food.

He pulled out a cheesecake and stuck a lone stick of wax in it and let her blow it out. There was no singing... thank god.

Standing up they went to sit on the couch with cups of tea, in silence, Sara with her legs pulled up underneath her, Grissom hugging the right hand armrest. It was quiet and the best birthday she'd had in... well, as long as she could remember.

Sara closed her eyes for a moment and sunk back. She sighed, completely content. When she opened her eyes, she was thrown off by his outstretched hand offering her something.

He held out a moderately large, brightly wrapped box to her. It was covered in orange and blue striped paper with a large yellow bow on top. For a moment she toyed with the thought that he was colorblind, though she knew he wasn't.

Reaching out, she grabbed the box and held it in her lap. "You know, I really told you not to get me anything."

"I know you didn't."

"See, when people say that, they generally don't mean it. But I mean it, I really don't like getting gifts."

"I know."

"So then why-"

"Open it." He prompted softly.

Sara looked at him, for some reason, incredibly sadly, but pulled back the paper slowly, meticulously. Once the box was naked to the eye, she peeled off the top and was faced with a plethora full of colorful tissue paper. Delicately, she pawed through the rainbow jungle until she was sure that there wasn't anything in the box.

Her brow creased as she continued to look down, trying to put together the pieces of the puzzle.

"Sara, honey. Look at me."

But she continued to stare into the box, honestly attempting to put the pieces in place, wondering at the silent message he was attempting to convey. But the message had to be spoken. It had to be.

"Honey, please." Her eyes dragged up to meet his, the confusion still palpable between them. Her hopeless, deer in the headlights gaze made him smile softly, reverently, holding the snapshot in his heart.

"I love you." It was said with a low shrug, an attempt to show her that he couldn't help it, that it was just too hard to ignore. He loved her because he loved her and... well, that was it. It just was.

Sara's expression held, lips slightly parted, hands still clutching the empty box. "Well..." She began, breathy and utterly surprised.

Then her face bloomed into a shy smile; ducking her head, she gazed up at him through her eyelashes, knocking the breath from his lungs.

"Happy birthday to me."

Grissom smiled and watched as she stood and backed away from the couch, as if attempting to gather her thoughts.

He was sarcastic and flippant when he spoke. "Don't you have something to say to me?" He asked because he knew she loved him, and she knew she loved him, she'd just been waiting for him to say it first.

She pretended to wrack her brain for an answer. "Uh, thanks?" A smile possessed her cheeks and he huffed a laugh, standing and advancing on her. He too was grinning.

"That's all?"

"Uh huh. Besides, you already had your birthday." She pouted as he continued to advance on her.

Slowly, slowly he moved. "Sara Jane Sidle..."

"You know my middle name?"

His grin was akin to that of a cat who'd just set his eyes on a mouse, ready for the chase. Utterly and totally ready. "I know a lot about you, honey..."

"Okay..."

"Sara Jane Sidle, I'm going to kiss you now."

"Oh. Okay."

Grissom placed an open mouthed kiss on her neck and it was impossible for her to hold back a moan. He did it again, slower, lower, dipping just above her collarbone, licking her there before he stood back to peer into her eyes, a delighted grin plastered on his lips.

"I think... it's time for me to leave."

"What!"

"It's 12:01." He showed her the time on his watch and stepped away from her and made his way to the door. Once he was there, grasping the doorknob, he turned to face her, the only noise in the apartment the ticking of her kitchen clock and the still-erratic breathing coming from her lungs. "Unless, well, Sara... Unless I can take the birthday girl to her bed and kiss her properly and help her to... sleep?"

Sara looked at him, her gaze softening. Then, brashly, she turned and rushed into the bedroom. Grissom was stunned, standing at her door in silence.

Until she shouted out...

"What are you waiting for? Take off your pants! Unless you sleep in 'em..."

Grissom laughed and trailed behind her into the bedroom, intentions as base as he could keep them.


	13. XIII

Thanks to Sara for the read through and Mr. Cheesefires for the beta.

* * *

"I'm running out of ideas."

Grissom plucked the glasses from his face and promptly planted his face into his palms. "I'm running out of ideas," he reiterated.

Sara licked the sauce from her mouth and then dabbed at it with a napkin. "Huh?" She took another large bite of her eggplant sub and recrossed her legs. While waiting for him to answer, she cracked a Diet Pepsi, stuck a straw into it and unknowingly taunted him once more with her mouth.

When he didn't offer up any response, she sat forward and spoke. "You're running out ideas for... what? You can't just say that out loud and not explain-"

"Ideas for... you know, going... out." He finished his sentence meekly, his voice distinctly forlorn. It was, to her, absolutely adorable and she had to smile around the straw of her soda. Worrying the little plastic thing between her teeth, she ran through the possibilities of what to say to him.

Sara cleared her throat and pulled the straw from her mouth. "What, you mean like, dates?"

Grissom sighed, exasperated, his cheeks red. "Yes, as in dates, Sara."

Sara, in a moment of pure cleverness, placed her can on his desk and folded her hands in her lap. "I uh, are we dating Grissom?" Looking down at her hands, she swallowed hard. "I just, I thought we were, you know friends."

Sweat broke out on his brow and he fought with his tongue to form coherent words and string them into a sentence. It wasn't so much happening for him. "Oh, I, Sara, just... never mind, I thought-"

Sara sighed heavily and brought her sub back up for another bite. "Oh, Griss," she said after she had swallowed. "It's just too easy... the look on your face-"

"What?"

Sara grinned at him, playing with her straw, twirling it in the can. "I don't know, I think we're past dating. Though if dating means we can keep on with the kissing and you know, the sleeping together... I'm all for voting." She quirked her brow at him, dangerously, feral, and it made his lips turn up just a tiny, tiny bit.

"So... we're dating."

Sara shrugged and went back to eating. "Up to you," she mumbled around a mouthful of eggplant.

Grissom smacked his hands on the desk and she laughed. "Sara!"

"It's up to you!" She laughed again and took the last bite of her sub. Licking her lips again, she sat forward, looked back and forth conspiratorially. "But yeah, between you and me, I'm fairly certain that we're dating. And what's more... I think we're pretty good at it."

Grissom's brow creased as he thought about that statement. "Are we?"

Sara grabbed her trash and tossed it in the barrel behind his desk. After that, soda in one hand, she splayed the other over the back of his neck and leaned in. "Ohhhh, you better believe it," she whispered into his ear and left the office.

Grissom regarded his egg salad sandwich for awhile, and then tossed it, picking up a file and flipping it open, hoping to lose himself in the monotony of paperwork.

But he couldn't turn his mind off, it was running wild with 'maybes' and 'what ifs'.

They saw each other twice that night, once in trace and once as she was about to leave the lab. He made sure that she was coming by his house afterwards and they left it at that, Grissom still in a mood, stuck somewhere between elation and despair.

She arrived at his house a half an hour late. It'd been her idea to cook dinner in and she wanted to find something that they could both settle on for dinner.

Sara had stood for nearly five minutes in the meat department, wondering if she could do what she'd wanted to do. Relationships meant compromise, and if it made him happy, if he ate it, she'd try to cook it. Compromise, yes. Compromise was the key word.

So, Sara reluctantly reached out and grabbed a package of chicken breasts. After running through the produce sections she brought her purchases to the checkout and paid.

Her driving was somewhat erratic as she zipped off to his apartment, not wanting to be so incredibly late that he thought she was ditching him. She hopped out of her car and grabbed the grocery bags and ran up the stairs, arriving at his door breathless.

She was looking at the floor when he opened the door and she looked up and was thrown off course by what she saw.

The living room was alight with the warm glow of candles, the scent of vanilla sauntering out to entangle her senses.

"I thought you were running out of ideas," Sara said smugly, passing by him, into his home.

Grissom smiled and watched her as she walked by him. "Well, let's say I was inspired. And I thought," he began, voice low and sexy, moving over to where she was standing. "That we could christen this new phase of our friendship with a, gee, I don't know, hello kiss?"

Sara, all smiles, turned to face him, planting her hands firmly on the counter behind her. She looked up at him and waited. "Well, what are you waiting for, this is your idea."

So he kissed her, rather hungrily, making her moan in that distinct way he'd been longing to hear. Sara kissed back, just as thoroughly, pushing him across the kitchen, back into the other counter.

"Uh, yeah, you're uh, you're gonna take me to the bedroom now and I'll uh... make food later." She began kissing his neck, wet, opened mouth kisses that trailed down onto his collarbone.

Grissom's voice was breathy and oh so sexy when he spoke. "But I was just getting the hang of this dating thing." His own mouth attacked her neck, forcing her to claw down his back.

"Oh," she started. "But that was before the candles and the, ah god, the vanilla and the, jesus, Griss! Before the whole love thing..."

Grissom stopped kissing and pulled his head back from her. "But, I thought that was all in the past. That we had to rebuild from the rubble and..."

Sara laughed and kissed him again, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck. "Oh, you think you're that easy to get over, Gil Grissom." He regarded her for a moment, at a loss for what to say. She kissed him on the nose, making him smile skeptically. "Not even close."

Grissom, in a moment of pure insanity, wrapped his hands around her thighs and lifted her from the ground. Sara gasped and chuckled at his sudden movement. "So there's something else here, is there."

"Oh, well," she drew out, grinning. "That's up to you!"

Grissom's face turned to a frown and he growled at her and began moving towards his bedroom.

Sara laughed and buried her face into his neck. "I mean, it's really a multiple choice question... you can have 'a', the friendship and the things that come with that... 'b' the dating and the things that come with that, or, 'c', the whole 'lover' thing." She laughed again as he moved to set her down on the bed.

"And what about 'd'?" Grissom asked, standing in front of her.

Sara regarded him beneath tousled hair with her sparkling eyes. "Option 'd'?"

"All of the above." He growled and moved to kiss her. She laughed again, feeling lighter than she had in years.

"That has to be the cheesiest thing you've ever said to me. But yeah, yeah we can work with option 'd'."


	14. XIV

She hated this part, the part where the man tried to undress her. It was awkward and embarrassing. She'd always worry if the bra she was wearing was too boring, if her underwear was tattered.

Gil Grissom didn't seem to care about any of that. He only seemed to care about getting the skin that was hidden by the material.

A banquet on his bed; a dinner much more palatable to his tongue, he was sure. But where to begin?

Candles in his bedroom as well. He'd planned this, he needed this. Glorious golden tinged skin stretched over endless limbs, all reaching out for him.

"Do you love me Sara Sidle?"

Her arms, long and lean, were stretched above her head, the freckles on her chest creating fascinating constellations that he vowed to view later. "You know I do..."

Her voice, when she spoke to him, was a whisper coated with thick sugar, flowing slowly into his ears, down his spine to settle so delicately in his stomach. "Say it, I need to hear you say it." A deep secret of his, so lonely inside his crowded head, he needed her to need him and in that moment, he needed her.

"I love you Gil Grissom." Gil Grissom, not Gil, not Griss. Gil Grissom, she loved all of him. Him.

Oh, he wanted to splay his hands on her hips and love her into pure submission. Draw out her cries and make them his own. Her butterscotch-skin hummed with the warm glow from the flames. Never had an image inflamed him so.

And he kissed her, deeply, as only a longtime lover would know to do.

Tongue against his, she moaned massaging him with lush vibrations. He knew only how to moan back and disengage, trailing his lips to her jawbone.

A seasoned traveler, unfolding a treasure map with care, beginning his journey with patience. He was at point A and on his way to point B, he intended to see the sights, smell the roses.

When she kissed him she cupped the back of his skull, holding him to her. His breath, his taste, so sweet. So dark. Her new favorite taste, to be sure. She trailed her modest nails across his scalp and he fought the groan that erupted from his throat. He felt, perhaps, like a cat, fat and content, splayed across the floor in the sun, being loved by the rays. Yes, he could envision himself lying naked on the floor with Sara, loving her beneath the warm glow of twilight.

But not before her loved her in the candlelight.

They were content to kiss for awhile, trace the contours of each others mouths' for some time, seeking and learning. But soon he became parched for her skin and sought refuge in the delightful hollow of her throat, nipping the skin there, soothing over it with his tongue. He seemed to seek out every obscure place on her body and stimulate her there. It was fantastic, it was enlightening, how did she ever live without this?

His hands, usually reserved for handling evidence, trailed over her arms, slowly, meticulously. She felt so, so on, and she didn't know if she could ever-

Oh he was kissing her collarbone. Pecking her collarbone before opening his mouth and sucking, so lightly that she wondered how it was physically possible to produce that sensation. Her hands tickled lightly up his back, slowly, surely, blazing tiny trails of heat where they went.

When he kissed her stomach she became nervous but was soothed when his hands sought out hers and their fingers intertwined on the mattress. It was the epitome of surreal, her mind was struggling to catch up with what was happening. Tracing the outline of her bellybutton, trailing one hand down her thigh to her ankle, pressing there for a moment.

It was erratic, the travel of his hands and lips. Unexpected, the spanses of skin he chose to adorn with his kisses. But she felt glorious and ready and bit her lip to keep from begging him.

Quickly, stealthily, he stole up her body and brought one set of hands up beside her head, he then re-grasped her hand in his and kept it stationary near their hips. Grissom brought his lips down and kissed over her knuckles, nestled so solidly in between his; he then tilted his head and kissed her cheek.

A single moment of time that froze-in that one moment he slipped inside of her, finding heat and love and oblivion... in that one moment.

Eyes slipping closed, a breathy sigh escaped her lips and she laughed, just a little. Her eyes opened and she looked at him. Grissom had never been so frightened in his life, there inside of her, looking into her eyes... it was the most frightening moment in his life. To love, so, so much...

A laugh bubbled out, a small one; a quiet one. Grissom's eyes darkened, wondering, thinking what her reaction meant.

"Mmm, I've just..." She sighed and squeezed his biceps lightly. "Never, ha, never felt this good." Licking her lips, she smiled up at him, waiting for him to react.

But he continued to stare down at her. Sara's smiled faded and her eyes drifted off somewhere to the left, and her lips nearly dove into a frown. "Love you..." She said, just barely perceptible and so sad.

Pieces, puzzle pieces filtered down, into place in his head. They clicked and set and his eyes truly opened for the first time and he saw her there, still beneath him, still with him, bathed in the candlelight he'd produced. She was there to be his.

And so he moved, and he head snapped around to meet his eyes and she sobbed, low and forlorn and loved and complete.

Together, they moved, bonelessly, meeting in the middle and retreating, but always coming back. Seeking out more. They sought and found and fell into the fire, burned to ashes and were released.

Her cries, so full, so luscious tickled his ears and he smiled, bent down and captured her lips.

And when she came and opened her eyes, her soul, just for him, he knew they were much more than friends. 


	15. XV

"This, okay, this is just not going to work."

Grissom's word pulled the last vestiges of sleep from Sara's eyes, and she strained to be sure what she thought she had heard was indeed what she had heard. 'Uh," Licking her lips to wet the parched skin, she tried again. "Uh, what?"

In front of her, he sighed. She could feel his chest move up and down-her hand solidly over his heart, the way she'd fallen asleep. "I said, this is not going to work."

Her eyes shot open, fully awake now, trying to interpret what he had just said to her. "I, um, what... what isn't... going to, uh... work?"

He was silent for a moment and she, jumping to emotional conclusions as she was prone to do, bit her lips and feared the worst. Then, however, he flipped over to face her, slinging his arm around her waist, spooning her in the other direction. "Yes, this is much better."

There was a strange feeling pooling in the pit of her stomach which she couldn't quite place. Grissom's lips took up kissing the back of her neck and a low growl emerged from her throat, it sounded like a purr. Then, then she placed the feeling: completion. Completion that you only feel after you, well, have really amazing sex with the person you love.

...crazy, amazing, sweaty, slow sex... with the person you love. The person... you love.

"Holy, with... Grissom, we had sex!" The words poured from her mouth before she really had a chance to process the entire situation. They made Grissom stiffen, his arm tightening around her just a bit.

Sara heard him opened and close his mouth several times; he was searching for what to say. Finally, his lips closed over her ear and she jumped. "I would have referred to it as something a little, different, but, yes Miss Sidle, we certainly did."

She smiled and nestled her head under his chin.

"I'd also like to point out," His voice was husky and made her shiver. His hand, warm and welcome, toyed with the slight dip of her hip, and she shivered again. "That we are still wonderfully naked, which, strangely enough-"

But before he could get out the last of his sentence, she, with a grin the size of Texas, turned over and kissed him hard on the lips. She slipped him gently inside her, they smiled at each other. Grissom grabbed her around the neck and pressed her forehead to his, watching her as she moved above him. Yes, this was bliss. This was what he wanted to wake up to for the rest of his life.

Hands on her arms, she watched her love him and found himself breathless with wonder. Sara leaned in and bit his neck gently, smiling against his skin. He felt the smile and laughed, long and low, catching on the tail end of a sigh. This time it was slow and languid and just a little sloppy.

They were in no rush to get anywhere, so they both held off from dragging the other over the edge. A droplet of sweat rolled down her spine and she came gently. He followed not long after, licking his lips, smacking a wet kiss to her neck.

Her face hurt a little; she'd been smiling too much lately. And she was sure she'd be sore later on, she hadn't used those muscles in quite some time.

Grissom gripped the sheet and pulled it up over him. "Kay, I'm going back to bed," he mumbled. Sara smiled and punched him on the shoulder. Staring at his tanned skin, she wanted to touch him again, but held off. Held off... tried to hold off.

She couldn't. With an index finger, she lightly traced patterns over his shoulder. He smiled sleepily into his pillow. She spoke softly, sated. "You know what would be great?"

He leaned over and peeked an eye open at her. "What's that?"

She grinned and slipped from bed. "If that was like, an everyday thing." 


	16. XVI

First, props to Carmen, who is Marlou's evil twin and beta'd in her absence. Yeah, she's out like... sleeping, or getting a life of something. And to Lauren... thank you for finishing 'Sources' babe. THAT was a ride. **Thank you to those who pointed out the mistakes. Finals aren't over yet. No more drunken posting. Sorry.

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"Oh, well that's nice." Sara spoke, and surprisingly enough the comment was genuine. She twirled another strand of linguini around her fork and recrossed her legs on the floor. She was seated indian-style on his floor in boy shorts and a tank top. Her hair was pulled back, pony-tailed at the nape of her neck.

To Grissom, she was the picture of relaxation. He wished he could be that relaxed.

Sara pointed her fork at him as she finished chewing. "How long has it been since you've seen her? Two years?"

Grissom thought for a moment and nodded. "About that, yes."

Sara shimmied over to where he sat on the couch and pressed her head back into his chino-clad legs. "It'll be nice to see her again. As I recall, I liked her..." Okay, that was a stretch, but not by much. There had been a time, years before to be sure, that she was sure Grissom was in a relationship with the other woman. Sara could be jealous, but that would be a waste. There was no reason to be jealous, plain and simple.

Grissom took a sip of his wine and pondered for a moment. "Hopefully she can shed some insight on this corpse." Sara's smile slid slowly up onto her face in such a delightful manner that he found it rather contagious and smiled a lopsided smile of his own. They gazed at each other for a few moments before Sara broke the moment.

She could handle mushy moments like that... but only to a degree.

"This linguini is really good." This time, she pointed the fork at her plate before spearing a piece of zuccini and bringing it to her mouth. Grissom continued to simply look at her. She ate in relative oblivion for a minute or two before she realized he was staring at her. Slowing her chews significantly, she turned to face him again.

"Wh... what?" Sara looked down at her lap and back up to meet his eyes. "Do I have zuccini in my teeth or something?" Feeling around her teeth with her tongue, she scrunched up her face.

Gil chuckled and took a bite of his psuedo-dinner. "No, no I just like watching you eat."

Sara's eyes were distinctly skeptical as she regarded him. "You like... watching me eat?"

Grissom simply nodded and smiled. Sara's hair fell in front of her face as she moved her plate to the coffee table and finished off her glass of wine. She then stretched out cat-like and rose from the floor, draping herself across him. "Well. I'm sure watching me doing other, far more exciting things..."

Sara nipped his ear and Grissom's hands went straight to her hips.

"...would be much more fruitful right now..." Sara ground out before capturing his lips with hers and providing him with a little after dinner entertainment.

The next day she picked Terri Miller up at the airport of her own suggestion. It had been Grissom's intention to, but he'd been called out early on a consult and Sara had offered herself up for the task.

"So Terri, how have you been?"

The blonde smiled warmly at Sara. "I've been wonderful. I've just spent the last three months in London, consulting with Scotland Yard."

Sara took a left and nodded her head in acknowledgement. "That's impressive." It was, Sara found herself actually enthralled with what the forensic anthropologist had to say. She was a startlingly interesting and wordly woman, and Sara admired her. She was lofty and smart and attractive, and didn't like to take shit.

They fell into comfortable conversation on the way back to the lab, each sharing war stories. Upon arrival they parted, Sara to meet Brass and Terri off to Grissom's office. Sara was in a surprisingly upbeat mood. Grissom was semi-excited to see Terri again, and his unbelievable mood that evening had rubbed off on Sara. So she was merry and chipper, even when Brass informed her that they were going to process a smash and grab. She collected the evidence with care and brought it back to the lab, attempting to reign in the spring in her step. It was difficult, but she managed.

She dropped some evidence with trace and some other items with Jacqui, who noticed her larger-than-usual smile. Sara attribuedattributed it to a wonderful morning's sleep and went off to find Grissom.

His office door was closed, which surprised her. He never shut his door. He rarely shut it even when he left for the evening. She shrugged and walked to the window and peered inside.

What she saw there... did insanely cliched things to her. She went deathly cold and yes, her stomach flip flopped violently and threatened to rebel into her throat. Indeed, fire did leap to her eyes and it was true, she had to bite her lip to keep from screaming. She wanted a thesaurus to peruse the synonyms for rage... because she was feeling all of them.

Terri Miller was stroking Grissom's face and moving forward, as if to place her lips to his. And he was doing nothing to stop her.

Sara knew, logically, that she should continue watching the spectacle. That to leave at such a crucial moment would be jumping the gun, especially if she was to confront Grissom about this.

She trusted him, trusted him, trusted him... but...

Sara tore her eyes away, swallowed her pride and walked to the locker room. She would not, not not jump to conclusions... okay, so she would.

She grabbed her jacket and handbag with a sense of calm, but slammed her locker shut, her eyes bloodshot, ready to shed tears. 'There's no need, there really isn't Sara,' she told herself over and over and over all the while making her way purposefully towards Grissom's office. The door was open now and Terri was gone and he was perched on the edge of his desk, apparently lost in the annals of his thoughts.

Sara knocked softly on the door, attempting to feign ignorance at the spectacle that she had just witnessed. A tight smile was her only expression. "You, uh, you coming over later?"

Grissom bit his lip and tilted his chin in her direction. "No, I... not tonight. I have some paperwork I have to finish up. I'd be a terrible bore." He said, nodded, and got up from the desk to retreat behind it. Sara nodded curtly and bit her tongue, holding back from saying, 'It's okay, I don't mind, bring your work home with you.'

Home, she mused on that for a moment.

Not their home, obviously, her home. That thought made her sad. But she turned her attention to the matter at hand. They had both decided that bringing work with them would be very unwise. And now she was considering going back on her own rule. No, not now.

"How's uh, how's Terri?" Her voice was casual enough and she gave herself a mental pat on the back.

Grissom's head snapped up and he regarded her slowly. "She's... well. She's very well." Sara nodded and waited for him to continue. "She, uh, just got divorced"  
His voice was slow and cautious and she resented it immensely.

Sara nodded and crossed her arms tightly around herself. "Anything interesting come of the case?"

"Interesting? No... not that I recall"  
And so she nodded again, really, really really not wanting to get mad that he wasn't saying anything. And then it hit her.

Had something actually happened? Had she kissed him? And, oh god, was he using work as an excuse to be with Terri? No, no. Sara wasn't that fickle. He said he loved her and that meant he loved her and that meant... that was that. That was everything. She was damned sure that this was it, they were the bottom line. They were reality and love, plain and simple. If this didn't work, she was sure nothing would. They were meant to be and blah, blah, blah. She was sure of it.

Sara dropped her hands to her sides and shrugged. Stalemate? Was that what he wanted? He wasn't hiding anything, he wasn't. He wasn't.

"Okay, well I'm going to head out." She waited for him to look up at her, and when he didn't, she continued. "Love you," she whispered.

And he kept his head down and muttered. "Uh huh."

Sara was unbelievably sad as she turned to leave.

And she didn't even bother to shoot him a look over her shoulder.


	17. XVII

Thank you Law-ren for betaing!

Whoa! Thank you **REVIEWERS** you crazy awesome people!

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Sara Sidle was in the throes of a fitful sleep when she heard the shift in her floorboards and sat straight up in bed. She listened for a moment, testing the sound in her ears and analyzed it. It was him. That was generally how it sounded when he walked over the floor between her kitchen and living room.

She was torn between elation at finding that he'd come to her place and wanting to feign sleep and hope he left. Sara wasn't sure how she would face him, but she knew she had to, if she didn't it would simply eat at her until she imploded. The desire to fake him out won. Tears threatened the back of her eyes as she saw his shadow moving towards her room.

She lay back down quietly, gently. Moments later, he appeared in her doorway, clinging to the jamb, watching her peacefully. Nothing seemed at all the matter; his face was placid and beautiful as always and she wondered if he could ever look at her that way after he'd been unfaithful. She truly thought no, but, for the sake of her dignity she had to be unsure. Her eyes were cracked a fraction and she fought to keep her breathing even. Grissom pulled away from the wood and padded over to the chair beside her bed and sat, regarding her thoughtfully.

"You think I can't tell if you're sleeping or not?"

If she hadn't been so damned torn she would have smiled at him. But she was, she was hurt and confused and wasn't sure how to proceed. Opening her eyes, she rolled to her side to face him. "Go away," she mumbled, utterly at a loss.

Grissom pondered her visage for a moment and sighed. "I missed you tonight. I tried going home and working but I miss you." He thought over his words and then continued. "I don't like missing you. I don't like the fact that I miss you so much." His voice was soft and contemplative and it made her sad.

"Great." She said, voice cynical. She didn't think she would have to be this Sara Sidle ever again. Apparently she'd jumped the gun once more, not that it surprised her. She just thought that some things had shifted for good.

"You're upset." It was a declaration, to let her know that he knew. He looked bone weary and upset too but she didn't much care.

Her tongue snaked out and moistened her lips. "I am," was all she could think to utter. More than upset really, but upset was a good place to begin.

Grissom's hand brushed over his beard, the movement somehow brazenly loud in the silence of the room, the scratch of skin against hair tearing through her skull as if mocking her inability to voice her thoughts. "You're not going to tell me why?" His voice was soft and prying and it pissed her off.

Sara sat up in bed, eyes red, hair askew and he brought out a hand to smooth it down. She withdrew from his reach and attempted to keep her glare at bay. "How's Terri?" This time, when she asked him, there wasn't sadness in her voice, but an edge like an uneven shard of glass.

His head snapped up at that and his jaw tightened noticeably.

"Is that what this is about? God Sara, I never thought-" He was angry when he spoke but she cut him off, indignance and hurt reigning in her tone.

"Grissom, I saw you," she scoffed and wait for him to answer.

Recognition flashed in his eyes and his mouth opened and closed a few times in rapid succession. He was obviously at a loss for words; Sara gave him a few moments to compose himself, allowing him the benefit of the doubt.

"She asked me if I was seeing anyone," he began slowly, glossing over his words carefully. "And it was my fault, I admit it..." While Grissom was configuring the next sentence in his head, Sara's face drained of color.

She sputtered a few times before speaking. "You did kiss her then?" Her voice was a pathetic squeak when she spoke, something stabbing at her heart repeatedly. A kiss, really something so base, so simple... a fucking kiss...

"No! God, no honey..." Grissom said, this time reaching out to grasp her upper arms in his palms. "Honey, no!"

An audible sigh of relief escaped her and though she was still tense, she wasn't quite as afraid any longer. "Then, what, where are you going with this."

Gil's eyes were sad and glazed and he worried his lip for a moment before plunging in. "The case was fine. That went well. That, that uh wasn't the problem." He cleared his throat, visibly shaken by the thought of infidelity. "We came back to my office so she could sign off on some paperwork and to, to uh, catch up."

Sara nodded and allowed him to continue.

His eyes slid closed briefly and he licked his lips, mentally steadying himself. "And she asked me... if I was seeing anyone."

A lone brow shot up at that statement and Sara watched him slump in the chair.

"And I, I told her no. And we... we just kept on talking, discussing... whatever." He looked at her then and was crushed by what he saw.

Sara had her eyes trained upward, stuck on something on the ceiling, tears brimming along the lower lids of her eyes. Her bottom lip was sucked between her teeth, most likely to keep the tears at bay. He wanted to hold her but knew that she wouldn't allow it, not then, so he continued with the story.

"And then, the moment I'm sure you were privvy to... she tried to kiss me. I didn't Sara, I could never do that to you." Sara looked back down at him, tears still in her eyes. This is what she had wanted to hear. So why was it making her so very sad?

Something wavered in his voice. "I told her then, that I was seeing you and that I loved you very, very, very much Sara..." He shook his head and let it fall into his hands. "I made a fool of her and I made a fool of you, and I knew this would happen eventually. This is why-"

"Shut up," she asked quietly. "It's not the end of the world." Her body relaxed and she moved a bit closer to him. "I just... I think that maybe you should have told me."

Grissom cocked his head. "But nothing happened Sara..."

"I know," she responded seriously, squinting her eyes a bit. "But I still think that you should have told me is all."

And for one of the longest moments of either of their lives, they simply stared at each other. A tear rolled down Sara's cheek and she trembled. Grissom too began to cry, wondering why relationships had to be so damned hard at times.

"I love you Sara Jane," he whispered.

So she smiled through the tears and moved over to him. "Then please, god Gil, show me..."


	18. XVIII

**_:tips hat: Marlou... rockage. For the rest of you lovely people, here be some fluff, I guess._**

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There were nights when Las Vegas was sleepy, nights when the criminals decided to take some down time and not commit any crimes. Tonight was absolutely not one of those nights.

Night shift was in chaos and some of it had spilled over to dayshift. Coffee was being brewed in copious amounts and doled out in large mugs. Grissom was more frazzled than usual, the ever-calm, ever-ready nightshift supervisor seemed to be letting the chaos get to him. He grabbed a mug and took a few pulls on his coffee and readjusted his glasses. "Okay, we've got... a 419, a smash and grab, suspicious... suspicious circs, I think." He squinted and looked at the paper, Brass's tiny handwriting clustered together. "Suspicious circs,(.)" He held up the paper, and Nick grabbed it, much to Warrick's chagrin.

Grissom blinked the sleep out of his eyes and took another sip of his coffee. "And we have another 419." People murmured in irritation as he put the papers down on the table. "I'll work one of the 419's... Catherine, you can take the smash and grab since you have to leave early for that... thing," Grissom waved his hand as he said it and sat down tiredly.

"Thing," Warrick asked.

Catherine nodded, adding more creamer to the coffee. "Nature walk, fun huh? Yeah, I get to spend four hours in the forest with a bunch of twelve year olds." Everyone looked at her. "I haven't slept in three days."

Warrick smiled and finished off his mug. "Should be a blast." Catherine shot him a look and took a seat across the table from Grissom.

"So," Grissom continued in a harried voice. "Sara, Warrick, you've got the other DB call... and I think that's it. Don't bother with reports tonight, I know we've all worked a triple..."

Several votes of 'thanks' passed about the room but Grissom waved them off and opened a file as everyone got up to leave.

"Later, Gil," Catherine tossed over her shoulder.

Sara passed by, "Bye Griss,"

He didn't bother looking up, just tossed a casual, "Love you," over his shoulder.

And time stopped. Everyone paused en route to the doorway and waited for Grissom to explain his faux pas. Sara's cheeks blushed and her mouth hung open in shock. Catherine had grasped Warrick's arm as he attempted to walk by. Nick sputtered up his coffee. All four nightshift employees stared at the back of Grissom's head.

It was a page flip and a sip of coffee later that he realized what he had said. "Oh. God."

A mischievous smile passed over Catherine's face and she moved up behind him. He'd gone stock still, his eyes wider than Sara's. Sara glanced around at Warrick and Nick who were both fastidiously holding back their laughter.

Catherine smacked her lips and poked Grissom in the shoulder. "Gil..." she began, low and sickly sweet, "You have something you want to tellllllll us?" Her hands landed on his shoulder and Sara smacked a hand to her forehead.

"Oh Gooooood," she muttered, licking her lips, wondering exactly how Grissom was going to work his way out of his little slip-up. 'Little slip up? Be real Sidle, this is a huge fucking landslide.' She cringed again as Catherine moved herself around in front of Gil.

"Giiiiiiil, still waiting on that an-swer." She sing-songed the last part and Warrick burst out laughing. Nick soon followed, placing a hand on Sara's shoulder and shaking her. That just made it all worse.

"I uh, what?" Grissom cleared his throat and mentally bitchslapped himself for being such an idiot. It was a hard slap too, it resounded throughout his mind and left his frontal lobe pink and sore. "Catherine I-"

"Love who? 'Love you?' Who? Oh goodness, is it Warrick? I knew it I-"

"Okay, okay," Grissom began, sounding pissed off, but a slight smile twitched at his lips. "Okay, stop it."

And they all stood before him like some holy congregation, smiling and silent. Sara's eyes were on the ground. Her cheeks were still pink and burning, waiting to see what he would say.

Grissom sighed and threw his hands up in tired surrender. "I love Sara, okay? Now get to work!"

But they all still stood before him like nothing had changed. Sara's face however, had straightened and her lips had quirked up just a bit and she shot him a tiny smile. But still, the nightshift minions stood before him, waiting for something more.

Grissom threw his hands up again, amused and exasperated. "What do you want from me?"

Catherine chuckled. "A better explanation than," Catherine dropped her voice and droned, "'I love Sara'. That's not very romantic Gil." The blonde wore a look of elation and mischief and he wanted to wash it off of her face.

"It doesn't have to be romantic because," he gave a short glance at Sara. "She already knows... and has known... for the past five," Gil thought for a moment. "Five and a half months." A smug smile crossed his face and he set his shoulders. Catherine gaped at him and then moved to punch him in the shoulder.

"Five months! I knew you were getting laid!" Catherine shrieked, and she shoved him. "I knew it!" Luckily everyone in the lab was too wrapped up in their own worlds to concern themselves with the actions taking place in the break room. Well, all but Greg.

"Did I just hear that someone's getting laid?" His eyes were glittering and schoolish and Nick laughed again, loud and thorough, clutching his stomach. Greg looked around in confusion, especially at Sara's horrified expression. He went to go to her but she shook her head and stepped back towards the wall.

Catherine slapped Gil on the back and turned to leave. "Let's go people," she said and ushered people out of the break room. The last he heard of her was her making a joke to Greg about the 'birds and the bees'. Grissom shook his head, wanting nothing more than to disappear. But, alas, he had a job to do and retreated to his office to grab his field kit.

He didn't bother flicking on the light, just made his way over to his desk.

The door to his office shut and he was left, surrounded by the dull light from his terrariums. He looked up to see Sara advancing on him. "I'm sorry Sara, I-" But was cut off when she pressed her lips to his, kissing him deeply for a long moment. When she pulled back, he was in a daze, so she simply made her way to the door.

"You can be sweet when you want to be, you know?" And then she was gone.


	19. IXX

_**Beta'd this myself! Woo!**_

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**_She was making fish. His favorite, cod. There was no special occasion, just a bit of free time and a nice gesture. She'd bought nice wine, to make some sauce that the cookbook had suggested went well with it. Just an all around nice gesture. 

But as Sara Sidle prepared dinner, she began to speculate on how comfortable she found herself at the task. True, she was without the homey apron, or the telltale flour smudges on her face, but she felt... domestic. Like a wife, like she was waiting for her husband to come home from the office. It simultaneously thrilled and sickened her. 'Husband, Sara you've gone round the bend,' and she laughed to herself and lightly salted the fish.

Sara was stunned to find herself completely at home in Grissom's home. Her feet felt cool and welcome on the hardwood floor; she had a particular spot where she sat on his couch; she had a toothbrush in the bathroom. She was stunned to find she knew where everything in the kitchen was; she was downright floored that she was actually following a recipe out of an honest-to-god cookbook. It frightened her to think that she was excited for him to come home. 'Home,' she reminded herself. 'His, not yours.'

She seasoned the fish with some cilantro and lime and put it in the oven to bake. It had been a long day and truly, she wanted nothing more than to eat and fall into his arms and sleep for a good six years. The denim of her jeans caught the vestiges of moisture from her hands as she wiped them and she sighed.

Then she didn't know what to do with herself. She stood in the kitchen, simply looking around at the utensils and food stuffs. Sara heaved a sigh and began cleaning up. She washed the dishes, put the vegetables back in the crisper. She then cleaned herself up, just a bit, straightened her hair out a bit and dabbed some concealer under her eyes. Not a vast improvement, but a small one and once she was satisfied that she didn't look like a hag, she went and lay down on the sofa.

She was asleep on the sofa when he came in, briefcase in hand. His face was bewildered, he hadn't remembered inviting her over... but she did have a key. Then he smelled the fish and the vegetables and looked over her sleeping figure. Mouth slightly agape, hair tousled, skin freshly washed; he sighed and smiled and placed his briefcase on the floor. It was a wonderful surprise to come home to.

'Home,' he thought. 'Home.'

Grissom was content to stare at her for a few moments. It was moments like this that he wondered how any of this would work. It was perfect moments in time, captured in his heart that made him feel so desolate and frightened. She was all he needed, there, just lounging on the couch, and if she ever left, ever got taken away...

Inexplicably, he was drawn to her. He sat on the edge of the sofa and simply inhaled her scent, felt her warmth. To touch her, just to be able to touch was so very wonderful, a gift...

"Hey," a hand passed over her cheek and her eyes popped open. Sara yawned a bit and stretched her long frame over the couch.

She smiled at him for a moment and then sat straight up. "Oh shit, the fish!"

And Grissom laughed as she dashed from the couch into the kitchen to check on the dinner. He watched her putter around the kitchen, grabbing this from here, that from there, arranging things in the manner she liked. He hadn't expected her to be there waiting for him, but she had, and his heart clenched again at the thought of her there all the time, waiting for him. It wasn't an unwelcome thought at all, but it was unsettling to think that he might eventually cohabitate with someone.

Grissom shook his head to get rid of the comforting and confusing image. It couldn't be healthy to love a person this much, it couldn't be logical. There had to be something wrong with the entire situation. Nothing could feel this right. Sara arranged the food on the table and got out the wine and he walked up behind her and dropped a sloppy, open mouth kiss on her neck. She giggled and moved back against him.

Could he stop if he wanted to? If he needed to? Could he stop all of this?

'Nothing should feel this good,' kept repeating over and over through his head. Even as he turned her to kiss her lips, he kept telling himself that something wasn't right, something was off. 'Maybe everything is right at the moment, Gil,' he told himself and wrapped his arms around her shoulders. 'Maybe everything is right and that's exactly what's wrong.'

She made him move away and sit down and they ate. Grissom commented on her cooking more than once and even made a rather dirty comment as to what he'd rather be eating. She'd smiled, blushed a little and told him to shut up and just eat. Sara was rather pleased with her prowess in the kitchen and celebrated by allowing herself to have a third glass of wine. And when she got up to clear the table, he was behind her, kissing her neck, whispering things into her ear, bending her over the counter and ridding her of her shirt.

He was there between her thighs as he put her up on the laminated top, kissing her lips, and it hit him between the eyes with a baseball bat. He couldn't do it, it was all too much, too much... all of her, god, too much.

'You can't stop, it's full speed ahead, gotta pull out now or no turning back...'

"This isn't right, this isn't..." He looked into her eyes, appearing as if he'd just awoken after a long slumber. "I have to go."

And with that he was gone, leaving Sara sitting on the kitchen counter, shirtless and confused.


	20. XX

**_Thank you to Matthew for the help._**

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When he came home that afternoon, her things were gone. The toothbrush was missing from the cupboard and her extra clothes were absent from his bottom drawer. The leftovers from dinner had been dumped in the trash, but the table had been cleared. There was no note. He hadn't expected there to be.

He didn't know what he'd expected. Nothing really, she'd essentially given him everything and he'd simply taken it away without so much as explanation. 'I had to stop loving her-' one side of his mind screamed, while the other kept shouting, 'You stupid, incessant fool! Fool, fool, fool!' But because he loved her didn't mean he was any less confused. He was, so very. Giving himself so willingly to another human being and to have that being cultivate and reciprocate was incredibly frightening.

He loved her, deeply enough to hate her for the way he felt now. But he didn't hate her, really. or even himself. He hated the collective disaster that was bound to repeat between them. He needed to let himself believe that loop could end, the cycle could be broken, and only by an act of will.

But acts of will are hard, and frightening, and fraught with hurt and danger. So he drove. And drove, and drove, until when he was finished driving, his hands gripped the wheel as if to snap it.

It was a starry night, cool and clipped. Grissom stepped out of her car and moved over to the guardrail, regarding it as if it were a piece of evidence. Then he sat down on it, hands clasped between his knees. Head down. There was a lot to think about, there really was, and he couldn't seem to unjumble his thoughts long enough to sort them.

He laughed more, he realized. Smiled more, felt more, enjoyed... oh damn it all, enjoyed life more since he was with her. 'A common reaction to coitus,' he reasoned and nearly threw himself down the ravine for having thought such a thing. 'Asinine.'

He swiped his brow, simply because he knew he couldn't clear his thoughts. He had to try something. She wasn't the problem. He was; well, not him, just, alright him. Gil wasn't sure how to go about fixing his insecurities. They were far too frequent, invaded his brain far too often. She didn't deserve this. But he didn't know what to do. He didn't.

He wasn't sure how long he had sat there against the cold metal, but he heard a car door slam and didn't even have to turn around.

"You're a hard man to find." There was no mirth in her voice, no longing. She walked up beside him and waited for him to make some move, to turn toward her; anything. When he didn't move, she climbed over the barrier and sat down in the dirt before it, tucking her knees under her chin, looking over the valley with no real interest. "A hard man to find..." she trailed off. She'd been driving too, simply because she couldn't find him and say what she wanted, what she needed to say.

Grissom wanted to kiss her, wanted to hold her, wanted to sort out all the jumbled thoughts in his head there before so that she would understand. Perhaps she already did.

It was several moments before she spoke again.

"You know Grissom, I wanted to be there. I wanted to sit down and wait for you to come home so you could tell me why." She stared at him for a moment. "Yeah, I get that you're neurotic and completely jittery when it comes to relationships, I know." Sara wet her lips and stood up. "But that gives you no reason to treat me the way you did. The way you have."

Grissom continued to stare out at the expanse of valley laid bare before him but could not fathom words to say, nothing aside from, "I'm sorry."

Sara pondered him for a moment, but pursed her lips in sadness. "I know you are," She said, her tone final. She did, it was an absolute. Honesty shone through his eyes, and yes, she knew he was true but... "But that's just not going to work this time."

He looked down upon her and she was pale and worn. Tears stained her face, but it didn't matter because they stained his as well. Hair blowing in the wind, she looked just as lost as he was. So they sat there, still and silent for many minutes, both wanting to touch the other but knowing it was inappropriate at the time.

"I really am sorry, for... whatever." Grissom waved his hands for emphasis and continued on in a lower voice, "I want to make this better, I want to be able to give you what you need, Sara, I-"

"No, no Grissom. I don't want to friggin fall into your arms again." She didn't even bother raising her voice. "You have to straighten out your head." She paused. "God, I love you, I do, more than anything, but I can't sit on the backburner until you figure out what's wrong with your life."

He nodded, knowing that he had to straighten his head out before he could do anything.

Their eyes met at that point.

"I don't deserve that, and I can't live like that." Sara bit her lip and looked out again, proving to him beyond a doubt that she was serious. "I may love you but I can't live like that, you understand?"

Tears in his eyes that he did not wish to surrender slid back into his throat and they both sat at peace, looking out over infinity.

Grissom swallowed and turned to her with new purpose. "But you do know that I don't..." Such base words, words that could not describe... "That I don't think it would be any better for me to live without you. To stop loving you..."

A flicker of a smile passed over her features. "I know just how much you love me, but if you can't let yourself, that's an entirely different matter all together." It was said with an air of amusement that she did not feel. "You know, my grandmother used to tell me 'It doesn't matter how much you love with someone, it doesn't matter how much you're meant to be together, sometimes it just doesn't work out.'" Sara nodded and thought over the statement. "Maybe she's right, who knows."

Was he really ready to live the rest of his life alone? This was it, this was his everything, all or nothing. Was he truly ready to give up forever just because he was a bit nervous and lost? Then again, not really lost, because he was found in her eyes somehow, in some cliche manner.

Wind howled by their ears and Sara wrapped her arms tighter around herself. "You ever think you're so perfect for a person and yet you're still missing something?" It was a question that he wasn't sure he was meant to answer. He answered anyway.

"Yes."

Sara turned towards him, not sad but contemplative in a way that made him feel completely empty. "We're always together now Grissom, and I miss you more now than before. How do you do that?"

He responded immediately, ""I've been lonely so long it seems right to me. " He thought for just a moment and added, "I don't want you to miss me. I want... I want to be found."

"I don't know if I trust you."

"I know."

"But I have to want to trust you, ya know?"

Grissom sighed and placed himself down on the dirt, a few feet from her. "So you understand the attraction for me. 'I'm sorry' doesn't begin to... What do I do?"

Sara chuckled, "If I knew, I might just tell you." She tucked her hair behind her ear and sucked her smile back in.

"I don't think I want to ever consider living without you again."

"Have you?" He could still surprise her, and it showed in her voice. "Considered it?"

He hesitated, but spoke the truth. "Yes, I have."

"And?"

Grissom smiled but only a bit. She couldn't detect it in the dim light. "I... it seems to me... to be something akin to death... to live without what little love you've given me."

"Little?"

Grissom again, did not bother to look at her. "Sara Sidle, you are so filled with love I don't think I could ever deplete the supply. The fact that you're even here, willing to talk to me tonight..." She nodded and stood up. He stood as well.

"I promise Sara, I'll try anything, Sara, I-"

She clipped his words with ones of her own. "I don't want to go home alone tonight. I don't want to go home alone ever again Grissom... I don't know if you can handle that."

It was a long minute as he contemplated her words. Could he handle that? If he couldn't, he too would be alone forever, without the one person who'd actually taken the time and care to look into his heart and find love. "I can handle that."

She nodded and stepped back, hands crossed over her chest, a tiny, itsy smile toying with her lips. "Good, well... if you're not at my apartment in an hour-"

"We," he interrupted. "We'll be back at your apartment, and in a lot less than an hour."

He turned and looked at the two cars pulled off the side of the road, and then he looked at his keys in his hand.

"Why do we have two cars? We have to be alone another hour?" He looked at her in almost childlike petulance, his full lower lip a delicate arc.

"Get in," she laughed softly, not sure if he was teasing or genuinely that flustered. "We'll have impound tow yours in later."

He grinned at her, his lopsided grin, eyes bright. "We could do that, couldn't we?"

"I'll drive," she said, opening her door.

"You always do."


	21. XXI

**_CSINut214, Radish, Lauren... you all rawk my world... OH! And all the lovely ladies at YTDAW at work who recommend my work and quote it... I wanna friggin buy each and every one of your a friggin Jaguar._**

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The trek back to her apartment was, for the most part, silent. They'd glance at each other from time to time, but they had both lost the ability to put their problems into words. He'd taken to muttering 'I'm sorry' at steady five minute intervals and she'd just kept responding 'I know.'

It was a good hour before they arrived back at her place. Sara could tell he was dragging his feet as he followed her up the stairs. 'Good, he should feel like shit. I feel like shit.' An eye roll and a curse later and they were both in her apartment. She debated on whether or not she wanted a water, but decided against it and disappeared from the living area into her bedroom, making him wait by the door.

She returned from the bedroom in her pajamas and tossed an afghan at Grissom. Catching it, he stared at it as if it were a foreign object. He was so adorable when he did that... 'Back on track Sidle! You're mad at him, mad... Mad with lust maybe, you wanna get into his pants again-NO! He made you feel like a fool, move forward with the plan!'

"Wha-"

"We're gonna do this right. I'm not ready to forgive you." Cocking her head, she stared him down. "You're sleeping on the couch."

Grissom's eyes went a little wide as he looked from her to the couch and back.  
"Me, sleep on that?" He looked at the olive leather disapprovingly and pouted.

"Oh yeah. That's your bed for the night, so get comfy." But as he continued to stare at her, she felt the need to expound on her words. "You see, I can believe you when you say you're sorry... but I can also make your life a living hell for the next few days for embarrassing me like that. Or... I can do both!" She smiled at him. "Goodnight!"

Sara fell to sleep that morning rather easily, which surprised her.

When she got up, late in the afternoon, she found Grissom still asleep, his face twisted in discomfort. She felt sorry for him, she really did, but there was no way in hell she was going to let him off that easy. His back would surely be in pain when he awoke and she wondered if she were some kind of backward sadist, but quickly quelled that line of thought.

The urge to have forgiveness gained was a rational one. There was some part of her that knew he had to prove just how much he wanted this, regardless of how sorry he was. He'd ignored her for so many years, produced so many sores that there was no way that she would allow him to go scot-free. He hadn't meant to hurt her; she knew that; his first instinct was to always protect himself and he had proven that.

She knew, knew, knew, that something would have to change. She couldn't change him and she kept telling herself so, but she was so very unable to let go of the fact that he couldn't let go.

Sara had decided long ago that there were two types of people: the type of people like her who threw caution to the wind for something like love, and the people like Grissom who kept it close to their heart because it was considered a weakness or dangerous... or some other excuse. 'Opposites attract, and I don't need a degree in physics for that to be true, so goddamned true...'

He shifted in his sleep and she kept her thoughts at bay, kept them from running away from her. It was true, she wanted to kiss him, suck the life from his lips and hear him moan, but that wasn't enough. She needed to know; as a scientist, she needed absolute proof that he would be there with her for the long haul.

Sara pretended to ignore the slight bit of drool coursing from the corner of his mouth but she couldn't. It made her laugh, long and low. Grissom, startled, struggled to climb from the realm of sleep. Hands found the surface of the couch and pressed himself upward to meet the last vestiges of the day. "What, sorry, huh?"

It appeared that then he felt the crick in his back and winced. "I can't believe you made me sleep here. Damn it," He rubbed his back with his left hand, "I thought you loved me." It was said in jest and in pain.

"I do love you," she reasoned, moving to the kitchen to start the kettle. "That doesn't mean I have to like you all the time."

Grissom nodded but didn't really agree. Well, he was too tired to agree with her. He'd only gotten three hours of solid sleep. "Okay, I guess." He didn't understand, and she didn't really feel like explaining to him why.

Sara glanced inside her refrigerator. "Break, uh, breakfast?" She sifted through the contents and came up with milk and eggs and searched through her cabinets for flour. "I have um... eggs and flour and could make... pancakes? If I could find my waffle iron I could make those... but that would take a while and I'm kinda hungry-"

"Pancakes are good," he reasoned and smoothed out his pants as he made his way to her kitchen table. She fluttered about the kitchen, grabbing things and slamming things and being harried. "Pancakes are great, fuck Sara, I'm really sorry, I can't say it enough."

Sara turned to him, in the midst of cracking an egg. "And if sorry covered it, I would have forgiven you, right?"

Grissom nodded a bit and cleared his throat as he swiped at his eyes again. Sara took a glance at him and her eyes gathered tears. "You love me right?" She knew he did, there was really no need to ask.

Grissom snapped his head to attention. "You know I do."

Sara dropped the wisk and spun on him. "Then fucking act like it, that's all I ask."

He was rather confused; hadn't he proved to her that he loved her? Hadn't he tried? No, he supposed not. Grissom dropped his hands to the table and spoke, loud and angry. "God, Sara, what the hell do you want me to do? Really?"

Before she could make any physical movement, she yelled. "You could let people know, god when they fucking ask you Grissom, when they ask you if you're seeing someone... you can tell Catherine why you can't go out for coffee on certain nights." Sara paused and moved over to place her hands on the table. "Grissom, I don't handle passion well, you know that... but, god I tried with you..."

Grissom didn't want to cry, he really, really didn't, but he did. A tear slipped from the corner of his eye. "Sara, this can't be...I don't... FUCK! I don't know what to say except I'll try." Grissom bit his lip, "That's all I know to say."

Sara simply stood before him and swallowed hard. "So, pancakes, chocolate chip or regular?"

Grissom reached out and grabbed her hand. "Please know that I love you," he said and stroked over her knuckles with a finger.

Sara nodded around a sob and somehow managed a smile. "I know, I know it's just that it's really hard to be mad at you, even though I need to be." She paused and he nodded. "And I really want to touch you..." Even though he was touching her, it simply wasn't enough. Grissom stood and let go of her hand and walked around the table to gather her into his arms.

"Then touch me, honey." And she did.

It wasn't better, not at all, but it was a step in that direction.


	22. XXII

**_Short, fluffy. Shoot me. Sorry._**

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They had made love that night like she'd longed to for weeks: slow, long and languid. He didn't tell her that he loved her at all during those hours, didn't speak at all. He allowed his body to speak for him, and she laughed at him afterwards when he told her that that was what he had been doing. Gil kissed the inside of her elbow and behind her ear and told her that no matter what, she was exquisite and perfect to him. She'd hit him again to keep from making love to him again.

Sara was astonished to find that the good was beginning to outweigh the bad.

The nights went on and the days followed and they both found themselves allowing their metaphorical walls to crumble just a little more. In a bit over three weeks, they'd managed to disassemble the brick to leave just a small partition between the two of them, one that they could jump back over for a moment if things got too serious, or upsetting, or (heaven-forbid) romantic.

Butting heads was common between them and it seemed that no matter how well things were going, things would always get in the way. But that was life, as she had told him many times, and didn't change the fact that he was stuck with her for a very, very long time. He pretended to be exasperated with her but was secretly so very sated by the thought.

They made a home together, at both of their abodes; it was curious and intricate and neither of them would have had it any other way.

The two of them were too passionate about so many things. They butted heads from time to time, just because there was fire raging in their veins that wouldn't quit. After a particularly heinous screaming match over something that neither of them remembered, they fell into bed, a pile of limbs twisted together. The sex was torrid and hurried and sweaty and everything they both needed.

"I'd like to thank you," she murmered as she buried her head in his neck, sated and boneless. "For providing me with the most dysfunctional relationship I've ever had." Sara nuzzled him just a bit, because she felt it necessary to complete the moment.

"I do what I can," he chuckled back, smoothing her hair off of her shoulders and admiring her freckles for just a moment.

Sara laughed and placed a wet kiss on his neck. "I almost feel normal."

Almost was enough for her in that moment and she drifted, pulling herself from his grasp in her sleep. it wasn't that she wanted to get away from him, she simply couldn't handle all of that body heat when she slept. He didn't kind; In fact, it made it easier for him to watch her sleep for a moment before drifting off himself.

The bed was empty when he woke up; his hands instinctively reached for her but grasped only sheets in his hand. As his eyes fluttered open he caught sight of her, naked, standing in front of the closet. Grissom took a moment to admire her backside and then listened. She was talking to herself, about what he couldn't hear. But he heard something; yes, she was mumbling to herself. An amused smile broke out across his face.

Gil slipped from the bed, not bothering with his boxers, and snuck up behind her. "Damned dry cleaning," she murmured and leaned forward to push through the clothing. A half smile crept up on the left side of his face and he grabbed her around the waist, spun around and tossed her into bed.

She squealed and landed on her stomach, flipping over just in time for him to spread himself on top of her. A growl rose in her throat and she gazed up at him in wonder. This was not a side of Gil Grissom that she was used to dealing with; pliant, handsome, loving Grissom, looking at her like she was the only person in the world... like he wanted to eat her whole.

He must have had some nice dreams.

"You know," he mentioned as he bent to kiss her lips, "I could do this every day... for... a number of years," Another kiss. "Where the number of years equals N, where in is infinity." A few more kisses followed and Sara broke away, thoroughly amused.

She placed her pointer finger on his nose and pushed his face back. In a mock concerned tone she spoke, "Someone forgot to take his crazy pills this morning..." It was cliche and cheeky, but it was the only thing she could think to say under the circumstances

Grissom smiled and grabbed her hand and kissed the finger that had been on his nose. Smiling, he moved on to her neck, her collarbone and then darted up to her ear, where he tugged and licked and whispered, "You know, I think I could marry you Sara Sidle." He kept right on kissing her, not noticing the shock in her eyes.

As the heat seared through her body at lightning speed, she gasped and attempted to wrap her mind fully around the intent of his raspy declaration.

"Okay, I think someone overdosed on his crazy pills, come to think of it." And although Gil's words were making her frightened and dizzy, she allowed him to keep kissing her; up and down her arms, her stomach, her thighs. She chose not to think of his brash words in that moment and rather turned herself over to the sensations.

His hands moved to cup her face and he kissed her so gently, so damned gently. Sara began to slip away... away, away... away...

'Euphoria,' she thought, 'Damn, you are such a good word.'


	23. XXIII

Thank you Marlou for the beta, thank you Lauren for just being you... thanks to my L.A. ladies and all the kind people at YTDAW. Thank you **READERS** for sticking this out with me.

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"It's been what?" Catherine began, drumming her fingers on the steering wheel.

Sara turned to her slowly. "Hmm?"

Catherine glanced at her passenger quickly and turned back to the road... as if traffic was really going to move at all. "How long have you two been together? Seven months?"

Sara picked a piece of fluff of her shirt and answered non-commitally. "Ten months, give or take a few days."

Catherine nodded, smirking her little 'know-it-all' grin and kept her eyes focused on the road. "So you guys are pretty serious..." And there she was, pressing the issue...

"I guess," Sara said, shrugging. 'Fuck that," she thought. 'We are so serious...'

"He produced the rock yet?"

Sara sat up in her seat in shock. "Excuse me?"

Catherine grinned in that glossy way she was prone to and stared down her companion. "Engagement? Nothing on the horizon?"

Sara simply stared at her, dumbstruck. She had been considering it. In fact, Sara had been thinking about proposing to him. It, at least, would have been original. "Marriage, Catherine?"

"I'm sorry. I'm being a bitch," she admitted. Sara was always envious of the way that Catherine could speak her mind without thinking of the repercussions.

The two women were quiet in the stuffy interior of the Denali.

"No, I don't need to be married to him to hope that we'll be together for..." She was about to say 'forever' but slipped her sentence before she could spit it all out. "That'll we'll be together."

Catherine seemed satisfied with her answer and began sighing and huffing at the traffic. Sara eventually was fed up with the other woman's noises and turned on the radio. "Good song," Catherine acknowledged and then they were both silent again.

After a moment or two, Sara perked up. "I mean, it's not like I expect anything... or anything." Catherine nodded and smiled. "And I'm happy with how we are now." Again, Catherine nodded.

"You know, Eddie and I-not the best example, I know-Eddie and I broke up and made up five times before we were married."

Sara sighed and slumped back against her seat. "Then I guess we have four and a half more to go"

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"Catherine just informed me that in order to be an actual couple... we have to break up and make up at least... three more times," Sara said, dropping herself down on his sofa tiredly. Grissom looked up over his glasses from his study of the monarch butteyfly.

Wondering how to proceed, he licked his lips and managed to etch a smile onto his face. "Yes, but if we were going by the Catherine rubric of relationships, there's a great probability that you and I would have had to be sleeping together... years ago."

A large, long yawn escaped her mouth and then she smiled. "Think of all the issues that would have caused."

"Or prevented," he added with a flick of his finger.

"Or that," she acquiesced, pushing her hair out of her face and yawning again. The double shift she had just worked was beginning to weigh heavy on her eyelids. "Want food?"

"Sure," he murmured, distractedly. "Whatever you want is fine with me." And with that he went back to his analysis.

Forty minutes later she'd produced some sort of potato casserole and a simple salad and had called him to the table, refusing to allow him to eat at his desk.

Her domesticity was beginning to frighten him. She would do the dishes after dinner, tidy up his bathroom, made sure he ate breakfast... and lunch... and dinner. She'd begun insisting that he take Centrum right along with her and had gone so far as to suggest that they begin a running regiment together too.

He'd laid down the line there. He had told her that the old adage was true: he wouldn't run unless he was being chased. He'd then amended his statement to say that even if he was being chased he'd probably only jog at a moderately speedy pace.

Sara set out plates and silverware and even lit a candle in the middle of the table, because she could. It felt nice just to make dinner and sit and act normal, though normal was absolutely twenty-seven hundred miles in some direction radiating from the point that they were at.

Neither of them cared; what they had was good. It was good and nice and comfortable. He kissed her before sitting down at the table and filling his plate. They were both quiet for some minutes just eating and glancing at each other. "S'good?" she asked him, gesturing at his plate with her fork. Grissom merely nodded and smiled and took a sip of his water and then both went back to eating in silence.

Sara's mind was full with issues she wanted to resolve, one in particular. She decided that she'd bring it up after dinner. Pushing the potatos around on her plate she began wording her case in her head.

When dinner was through and the plates had been cleared, she made them both tea. He kissed her once more as the kettle whistled and finished with drying the last of the dishes.

Grissom went back to his seat at the desk, cup of tea in hand. It was a mere moment before his head was bent once more, eyes studying the intricate diagrams of the butterflies. Sara followed him back into the living room minutes later, stretching her long, lithe frame out onto the couch. "You ever gonna talk about that thing you said the other day?" she asked, running the tip of her finger over her tea.

"What... would that be?" He didn't bother glancing up, merely turned the page of the book and flitted his eyes over at her just once, for a mere second before continuing his study.

"You know," and another yawn cut off her sentence abruptly. A sour look passed over her face, finding that she was beginning to detest the normal sleeping cycle that she had miraculously fallen victim to. "What you said, the other afternoon when we were in bed..."

He was completely silent, dragging his magnifying glass back and forth over the delicate specimen, seemingly oblivious to the question she had posed. It stayed hanging in the air between them, until he finally looked up, placing the magnifying glass down gently. "Ah that," he finally acknowledged, dragging the glasses from his face.

Sara nodded and continued to swirl the tea around aimlessly, just to give her mind something to focus on.

"I'd buy you a ring and proceed with all of the fanfare, but that just wouldn't do," he surmised and she nodded.

They stared at each other in the warm, yellow glow of the living room.

"But I had meant... what I implied, though my timing was surely less than... perfect."

Sara nodded again and bit her lip. "But the process seems so... incredibly not... us."

She nodded one last time and sat up, placing her elbows on her knees. "I'm with you on the no fanfare thing," she pointed out and was quick to follow with, "and the loving you thing. That's first," she smirked, "Obviously..." Grissom nodded, just barely, but seemed to be following what she was saying.

"But," she continued.

The inevitable 'but'. It stabbed him in the chest repeatedly in that one moment she paused before speaking her next words. It slapped him in the face, poured a bucket of ice water over his head and pushed him off a cliff. Her smile snatched him one second before his body smashed against the ground.

"I damn well better be getting a ring."


End file.
